


Surrender

by kalipeda



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Classism, EREn IS A PRINCESS basically, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eren Is a Little Shit, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in denial, If You Squint - Freeform, Kinda, Loss of Autonomy, M/M, Magical Bond, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Related, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original setting, Slow Burn, Spies, Will add tags as I go, armin is a bad ass, bless mikasa for dealing with these, gender neutral hanji, it will be labled, it's not bad i promise, kenny is dead but done pulled some shit, minor original characters, oblivious idiots, poor levi, some political intrigue type stuff, sorta - Freeform, trying to include all of the cast, where do i even begin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 75,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalipeda/pseuds/kalipeda
Summary: (if this fic had a cover, it would be Levi dressed as Fabio clutching a swooning Eren, probs)In the Kingdom of Mitras, there exist two classes: the ruling and the serving. This hierarchy is reenforced through a contract which supernaturally binds a member of the lowly Cotidianum to each new ruler who takes the throne. When the new queen picks loud, brash Eren to form the bond with, the young man imagines his world coming to a proverbial end — along with his autonomy. Literally. The bond gives Eren’s “master” total control over his actions. Once Eren’s bond with the rightful ruler is completed, though, it comes as a surprise to the entire kingdom when the person he is bound to is not actually the queen… Now Eren must navigate not only a kingdom thrown into chaos and now threatened by war, but a loveless relationship he has no true say in, as well as new friends and enemies, all while trying to find a way to break the bond and return home to his ailing mother.Even Eren, with his fighter’s spirit, knows he’s got his work cut out for him.If only his new husband weren't so damn good looking.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an original fic, with original characters, but then I decided Eren and Levi were perfectly suited to it. 
> 
> This does feature a forced loss of autonomy, but there will never be non-con. There will be some moments of rather dubious-consent, but those will arise from Eren and Levi trying to skirt the rules/laws of the bond, not from willful violation/abuse, and I will always warn ahead of time in a chapter.
> 
> If anyone would like additional tags, or has any questions/concerns, feel free to leave a comment or find me on tumblr at kalipeda. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> x

Dressed in clothes and jewels more opulent than anything he thought even existed a short two weeks ago, Eren Jäger now sat on a small, delicately carved stool at the bottom of three short stairs. The stairs lead up to a dais upon which sat one of the most excessively elaborate structures he had ever seen, masquerading as a throne. Towering a good eight feet tall, gold, silver and platinum were woven together like cloth in some marvel of metal work and embellished with every type of precious stone imaginable. On this throne sat Eren’s new master: young, beautiful, by all accounts charming, and the queen. 

He hated her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some exposition at the beginning of this chapter to introduce this 'verse.  
> some silly dialogue from a butthead noble. 
> 
> any questions, drop a comment or find me on tumblr at kalipeda!

Two weeks ago, Eren was a normal village boy leading his family’s small flock of sheep to pasture. The closest thing to a diamond he had ever seen was the pig farmer’s glass eye; it had a certain sparkle in the light and had cost the vain fool a year’s pay. Eren was content as one of the normal Cotidianum — the working class that served as the true backbone of the the Mitras Kingdom — but that all changed with the death of the old king. 

Fritz had been an iron fisted ruler who lost his grip on the kingdom’s fortunes, as well as his own sanity, as he grew in age. Paranoid and violent, he managed to retain total control, despite his break with the rational world, funneling the kingdom’s coffers into increasingly absurd and fruitless ventures such as discovering the key to immortality and spying on otherwise friendly, neighboring kingdoms — he obviously failed at the first and, as for the second, said friendly neighbors did not take to said spying very kindly, and so became noticeably less friendly. All of this was done in his paranoia of being overthrown; to keep the crown on his failing head. His passing was as happy an event for the Expolitum, the aristocracy, as it was sad. Meanwhile, the rest of the Cotidianum only found it to be a source of inconvenience as they were forced to hold mandatory funeral rights, overseen by each village’s magistrate, which wasted time as they were pulled from their daily duties. 

With the old monarch’s funeral came the new one’s coronation, with all the traditions of old. It had been so long sing Fritz was made king — the crazy man had taken the throne so damn young and lived so damn long — that some of Mitras’ darker ways had begun to fade from memory; not quite forgotten, but certainly ignored, the older generations pretending these ugly ways did not exist, failing to mention them to the younger folk who would one day feel their impact. Like Eren.

Mitras was a kingdom of differences, the divide between the Cotidianum and Expolitum wide and unbreachable, but always held as _necessary_. Children of the Cotidianum had always been taught since they could learn that they were the lifeblood of the kingdom but that the Expolitum were the heart — the Cotidianum served the Expolitum, and it was their servitude which kept the kingdom thriving. Eren’s life had always been rather peaceful, he had never lacked for the basic necessities of life (though some winters had been harder than others), so he never questioned this total subservience — it never impacted his life directly, that he could tell, so he never payed it much attention. 

And then came the coronation. 

One week after Queen Mikasa took the throne, the magistrates of every village began rounding up young men. The quaint villagers had no means of resistance, no idea what was going on, and the few great-grandparents who had lived when Fritz was crowned only shook their heads sadly and prayed that their great-grandsons were not taken or, otherwise, that they were quickly returned. Piled onto the backs of wagons, not even given the chance to say goodbye to their loved ones, the boys were forced to leave with small groups of soldiers who told them that they were being gathered for a census. 

Eren did his best to stand as the wagon he shared with 8 other boys moved shakily forward, his mother watching and crying quietly at the village’s outskirts with all of the other families. 

‘I will come back!” he called, his anger and confusion steadying his voice against the tears that threatened to fall, “Mama! I will come back!” 

But of course he wouldn’t.

Fourteen boys total were taken from Eren’s village, and it wasn’t until they had been on the road for miles that he realized all the things they had in common, other than where they lived. They were all young, between the ages of 17 and 24, all slender, and all relatively tan and dark haired. At first Eren thought he was being ridiculous — they were all farmers by trade, so of course their skin would be the same honeyed shade. Besides, the whole situation was absurd enough already, without added theories. 

Arriving at their destination two days later, though, his suspicions were confirmed. Sore, hungry, and tired, approaching a giant estate in the middle of nowhere, Eren was greeted by the sight of dozens and dozens of other young, lithe, dark haired boys. It was at that point that he really began to figure things out.

At the gates to the estate, wagon after wagon waited in line as each boy passed under the inspecting eye of a portly man with a grand mustache that fluttered with each judgmental hmph and sigh he emitted. Some boys who came under his piggy gaze received a curt nod, but the vast majority were packed onto the wagons again, to be taken straight back home. As Eren’s wagon came nearer to the gates, he sent up silent prayer after prayer. He did not know what kind of criteria they were being evaluated by, but he hoped it was strict and that like many others, he too would be sent home. He _had_ to be sent home — with his father long dead, his mother needed him, _depended_ on him. 

At last, the wagon Eren rode came to the gates, and he did his best to slouch and appear generally unpleasant, even going so far as to pick his nose and inspect his finger, nodding sagely to himself as if he had discovered something of great worth up there. He mentally congratulated himself and began to look forward to returning to his own house and bed. 

“This one seems to be as mentally challenged as it is ugly, why would you even bring it?” the piggy-eyed man asked the wagon’s driver.

_It?_

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Eren sputtered, unable to contain his outrage. 

_Shit. Cover blown._

Piggy-eyes smiled triumphantly. “Do not think to be able to outsmart Sir Walling! I have been watching each wagon since it has come around that bend yet a mile out, and you only began conducting yourself in such a rude manner two wagons away.”

“Well I doubt you would want someone so deceitful for your little pony show, anyway, would you?” the young man retorted hotly. 

“Pony show?”

“Yes, pony show — where you gather the prettiest and trot them around until the highest bidder finds his or her pick?”

“You are more astute than your brutish manners indicate. You should realize, then, that this is a great honor!”

“Honor my ass. This is an auction, and, well, I’m not for sale.”

Now it was the older man’s turn to sputter. “That is no language for a gentleman-“

“Well I’m not a gentleman. I’m a farmer. So maybe you could shake your head at me already - do the whole squinty, judgmental thing - so that I can go back to said farm and try and catch up on the important work that this ridiculous exhibition has kept me from.”

Red faced, his piggy eyes bulging, Sir Walling pointed at Eren with a trembling finger, “I’ve no doubt that not a single noble shall ‘bid’ on you, as you have so crassly put it,” he hissed, “but the humiliation of being left in the ‘pony stocks’ due to your slovenly looks and behavior is something I would not wish to miss for the world.” And before Eren knew it, he was being gripped at each arm by a guard and forcefully lifted from the wagon to be lead to the estate’s front doors, his yelling and cursing ignored. 

_Well that backfired spectacularly._

x

 

“Eren, fetch me my wine.” The recently crowned Queen Mikasa pointed to her glass, gem encrusted and closer to a chalice than the simple wooden cups the boy being ordered was used to at home.

“Fetch it yourself,” he muttered back, chin down, arms crossed.

Levi, who Eren had observed by this point to be extremely reserved, snorted — practically a howl, coming from him. “If you can’t command him now, how do you expect to consummate the bond later tonight?”

“Shut up,” Mikasa spat at her friend. “You know it takes a while for the spell to set in.”

Steel eyes glinted. “Maybe your barn cat just needs to be stroked the right way.” Levi continued in a drawl, one eyebrow raising, “He is a prickly one, after all. Try ‘Eren, fetch me my wine _please_.’” 

Mikasa rolled her eyes, but suddenly the young man was moving. He tried to sit back down but found that he had no control over his body as he grabbed the chalice and brought it not to Mikasa, but to Levi, whose look of cool collection suddenly choked off. 

“That, that doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered, his face gone even whiter than its naturally pale pallor. 

“Giver him another order,” Mikasa said quietly.

“Mikasa -“ Levi began to protest.

“ANOTHER ORDER!” Queen Mikasa snapped harshly, a vein throbbing in her temple.

Levi looked miserably at his cousin, “Yes, your Majesty,” before clearing his throat roughly. Casting about, he said, “Eren, bring me that shield on the wall.”

Again, as if of its own volition, Eren’s body moved to obey Levi’s command. The shield in question was decorative and bolted into the stone, but despite this he kept pulling at it, his breath growing strained, the metal cutting into his palms. He couldn’t even look behind him to see what was going on, could only take in the sounds of whispers and rustled gasps spreading through the gathered audience of nobles, his entire physical attention focused as it was on the shield. “Your bloody shield is not coming off of this bloody wall any bloody time soon,” he managed to spit out, teeth bared.

“Eren, return to your seat,” came the weak command.

Swearing under his breath the whole time, Eren returned to the little stool, hiding his bleeding hands in the material of his ostentatious robes, humiliation flooding his cheeks with warmth. He felt completely debased, robbed of his autonomy — terribly violated. And all he’d been forced to do so far was try and pull a shield from its mounting. It wasn’t until he payed attention to the scene in front of him that his own humiliation was momentarily forgotten.

“Something must have gone wrong with the spell.” Levi had stood and was facing Mikasa. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he ran his hands through his hair in an upset manner, and Eren blinked at the show of emotion. “Marco will do the bonding spell again, and it will be fine.”

Mikasa sat slumped on the thrown, looking at the crown now held in her hands with bewilderment. “There was no mistake with the spell, Levi. Eren was successfully bonded to the rightful ruler of the kingdom.” She looked up at her cousin and friend who was shaking his head in a rapidly more agitated manner, his usually unreadable face laced with mild panic. “I am not the rightful ruler—”

“— no. There’s no way that’s possible —”

“— _you_ are.”

The horror of Eren’s own situation, the demeaning experiences of the last weeks, rolled over him, and in the deathly silence that followed their exchange, the boy began to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but that all changed when tHE FIRE NATION ATTACKED. Er. I mean, with the death of the old king..."
> 
> Sir Walling. WALLing. Ha. Get it? Get it?! 
> 
> I literally have no idea how monarchies and class titles work, so bear with me/correct me pls 
> 
>  
> 
> Cotidianum -- latin for daily, everyday, ordinary, pedestrian; other forms include quotidian: 'Commonplace or mundane things regarded as a class.'
> 
> Expolitum -- from latin expolio, meaning to refine, improve, smooth, polish, elaborate, but also to polish *off* (i.e. ruin) and plunder
> 
>  
> 
> x


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Some obligatory SNK tropes, ensconced in Hanji  
> -Some more awkward dialogue as I try to get this plot moving  
> -Walling is still a poo-poo-head, à la Heimlich the caterpillar 
> 
> x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all angels, thank you for the support  
> I hope you enjoy  
> xo

BEING manhandled through its front doors was about the most pleasant experience Eren would undergo at the estate. 

After crossing the threshold, the guards roughly pushed Eren forward to join the small crowd of boys collected in the opulent entryway. Most of them were shoeless, and the green eyed boy took more pleasure in wiping his dirty feet across the immaculate, marble foyer floor than should probably have been normal. His small act of vandalism complete, he looked up and only just managed to keep his jaw from unhinging completely. Gold gilding, shining crystal, paintings of deep purples, reds and greens adorned the walls; the ceiling soared above and held multiple chandeliers dripping colored glass and rich, beeswax candles. Eren couldn't help but feel very small in the face of such opulence — he thought of his two room house, its plain wooden walls and dirt floors, the greatest luxury contained within it the small hearth rug, woven by his mother from old scraps of material. Surrounded by such luxury, he was struck by a wave of homesickness; he’d take dirt floors over marble any day. 

As the crowd of boys grew, Eren found himself being pushed closer and closer towards the glass double doors at the far end of the foyer; the entryway was large, but it wasn't _that_ large, and it was quickly becoming filled with bodies from all over the kingdom. Pressed against the paned doors, Eren mulled over how quickly he would be caught were he to slip through them in an attempt to find an exit. It turned out that the answer was ‘pretty damn quick,’ as said doors suddenly gave way behind his back, revealing a small group of people backlit in the room within. Righting himself quickly, Eren skittered sideways and ducked his head, hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

“This is so exciting!” a voice screeched from the well dressed trio. More nobles like Sir Walling, perhaps? “Such a large group of individuals with matching phenotypes! I can’t wait to take some samples! Do you think it has more to do with their genes or their environments? They’re all so similar, what if it’s an indication that phenotypic variation due to heritable genetic variation is dwindling? What does this mean for the future of man kind? Are we going extinct?!”

“So help me, if you don’t shut that hellhole you call a mouth, I will hurt you,” a low voice spoke evenly. “A bunch of dirty Cotidianum is nothing to get so excited about. Look at the state of the floors.” 

Eren smirked quietly to himself. 

“But Leeeviii, _science_! This could help prove my theory of natural selection!”

“Hanji -“ the man, Levi, nearly growled before being interrupted by yet another deep voice.

“Both of you, stop. Don’t forget why we’re actually here.”

A tongue clicked impatiently, “Well you’re the royal advisor, Erwin. Feel free to start  
anytime.”

At this news, Eren dared to peek up through his grown out fringe. Three figures stood close together, observing the milling mass of boys. Eren was immediately struck by their height - of two of them, one was imposingly tall while the other was short. Very short. Eren bit back a grin, having never seen a grown man so tiny, in fact. Though he hesitated when he realized that what the small man lacked in height, he more than made up for in mass: even through the formal trousers and suit jacket, the definition of muscle was clear. Likewise, the taller man’s clothes seemed to strain against his brawn. The third person left Eren confused, their messy hair pulled back into a tail, their plain glasses, their equally plain gray robes, doing nothing to indicate whether they were a man or a woman, though Eren could've sworn the first voice he heard speaking was feminine. He felt his brows furrow as he continued to take in the trio: the immaculately combed blond strands of the tallest, his ice blue eyes; the short man’s clothing obviously starched and pressed to perfection, noticeable even at a distance, his mirror-shined boots, contrasting with his unusual, and rather casual, hairstyle: long and loose on top, shaved close underneath; the third person’s formal, long, gray robes indicating a position of power, yet streaked with dirt, the hem mired in mud. 

Who of the three was the royal advisor? Who were the other two? And how could Eren convince them to let him go? 

He would just have to be as unmemorable as possible and hope that he wasn’t picked, he decided. Not that him being picked for anything even remotely related to the Expolitum was ever likely to happen, as Walling had mocked…so maybe he didn't have to be so worried after all?

Eren, still gazing at the three, got so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice that he was still staring, and that the shorter man’s gaze had snapped up to lock on his own.

“Oi - you got a problem, brat?” gunmetal eyes sparked. Eren came back to himself suddenly and fully, his own eyes widening in panic before he managed to clamp down on his hysteric thoughts of how that was literally the opposite to staying unnoticed. He quickly shook his head in answer and ducked his gaze once again, mentally matching the man’s face with his voice. So the shorter one was Levi, then… Another click of a tongue, directed away. “Get it on with, eyebrows. I haven’t got all damn day.”

“Technically, Levi, we’ve been ordered by Her Majesty to oversee the Culling in its entirety, so actually you _do_ have all day! You even have all week! Isn't that great!” 

Eren balked at the word and its many meanings: _culling_.

“Hanji, I will happily murder you,” came the man’s flat response. And now Eren knew the identities of the other two, the robed one having spoken being Hanji, leaving the tallest to be Erwin — and the royal advisor. Now officially number one on Eren’s ‘Escape All Notice Of’ list. This established, Eren slowly began trying to maneuver back away from the doors (and Enemy Number One), but he’d barely made it half a foot before clammy hands were grasping him by the chin, tilting his head this way and that.

“You were the one Levi snapped at just now, weren't you?” Hanji asked before suddenly gasping, “Your eyes! Mendel’s Bones, look at them! I’ve never seen a shade this color before! Where were you born? What’s your name? Do you have any siblings? What about your parents? Levi, look at his eyes! Talk about phenotypic variation! Maybe we aren't all doomed to extinction after all! This boy could be Humanity’s Last Hope! What’s your name, kid? No let me guess: is it Sonny? No? Hmm, what about Bean? You look like a Bean. Doesn’t he look like a Bean, Levi?”

For his part, Levi had not moved from his position in the doorway and only looked on the decidedly one sided exchange with a mixture of annoyance and apathy, as Eren was assaulted. It was Erwin who finally stepped forward, pulling Hanji back by the neck of their robes with a rueful smile. 

“I do apologize…?”

Eren debated lying about his name, but as the pause grew longer and more awkward, and Levi lifted a brow, he realized it would be futile in the end. “Eren. Jäger,” he muttered dejectedly, his ‘Escape All Notice Of’ list blown to shit. 

“…Mr. Jäger. Hanji is the head physician at court and their enthusiasm can be, let’s say, overwhelming at times. I trust they haven't unsettled you.”

Trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible, Eren kept his eyes trained on his feet and only shrugged in answer with a nod. This did not seem to go over well with Levi.

“He asked you a question, Jäger. Even someone with the social skills of an animal would know that it’s only polite to answer.” Anger began to bleed into Eren’s gut. “Or are you an animal?”

Eren’s gaze shot back up, his lip curled. “No, I am not an animal,” he hissed, “contrary to the way in which I have been treated like one this entire time, that I am being forced to take part in this _culling_ ,” he was pleased to see Levi’s brow dip at the word. _That’s right. I heard you three before. I know what this is_ , “that I am going to be poked and prodded and treated exactly like one, before being deemed breedable stock or not.” Now Hanji and Erwin were frowning, and the boys in the immediate vicinity had grown quiet and were listening in as well. “Despite being dragged from my home and forced to obey, despite _all_ of this, I am _not_ an animal.” During his small speech, Eren’s cheeks had turned red, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he took a subconscious step forward in aggression. Now, he took uneven breaths as he attempted to reign in his fury.

Hanji looked like a wilted flower, lower lip trembling, while Erwin and Levi had arranged their faces back to being impassive. The boys around him began to whisper, confused, and Eren grit his teeth at their ignorance, only sparing a flick of his gaze at them. How anyone could actually believe this was for a _census_ was beyond him. Idiots, all of them.

Erwin looked to be about to say something, but Levi beat him to it. “You really think we have any control over this? That this centuries old law was our idea?” A pause, and Eren could only glare. Levi huffed out an echo of a laugh, “Interesting.” And then, without another word, he turned and walked away. 

After a moment, Erwin and Hanji followed, but not before the latter gripped Eren’s hand with a passionate whisper. “Your eyes are much too unique to naturally occur within any species outside of homo sapiens sapiens; you’re not just a dumb animal.” And then Eren was standing alone feeling strangely deflated. He scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair and blew a breath out through puffed cheeks. 

He was so fucked.

x

Not long after his encounter with the trio of nobles, Eren and the other boys were wordlessly herded down an adjacent hallway and into a large hall that, Eren was rather unsurprised to see, made the luxury of the entrance seem a pittance in comparison. The young man only sniffed and folded his arms crossly while the others gaped in open wonder. After what Eren felt was an unnecessarily long amount of time, Erwin, followed by Levi, Hanji, and an additional two men who were unfamiliar, stepped forward on a raised dais at the head of the hall. 

“Welcome, citizens of the Cotidianum,” Erwin’s voice echoed through the chamber effortlessly. “We thank you for your cooperation. As you have been informed by your individual magistrates, we have gathered you here today to participate in a very important census, under her Majesty, Queen Mikasa. We ask that you continue to cooperate patiently, and wish to reassure you that we will answer your questions soon.” Eren didn't even try to restrain his loud snort at those words, and the boys in his immediate vicinity glanced at him in confusion, murmuring to each other. He pretended not to notice storm cloud eyes narrowing in his direction. Erwin either did not notice or chose to ignore the small disruption, and finished his short speech. “In a moment, you will be separated into groups headed by Seneschal Dita Ness, Head Priest Mike Zacharius, Court Physician Hanji Zoe, and Grand Prince Levi. At that point you will be given further instruction. For now, please arrange yourselves along the perimeter of the hall according to height, with the tallest standing closest to the dais. Thank you.”

As the boys began to shuffle towards the walls, Eren remained shocked to the spot. _Grand Prince Levi_. Not just a noble fawningly named after sovereignty, then. This Levi was the real thing: son to the Grand Duke, Kenny, who was Brother to the late King Fritz, which made Levi…royalty — royalty in line for the thrown. 

And Eren had yelled at and disrespected him.

Closing his eyes briefly with a miserable moan that was more whimper, Eren mentally shook himself before forcing his feet forward. As he positioned himself amidst the others, his focus remained turned inwards as he tried (and rather failed) to convince himself that Levi had forgotten his outburst already. Both of them. When a nose seemed to suddenly appear from behind, sniffing at his neck and shoulder, it tore Eren from his thoughts, and the young man let out a surprised shout before instinctively swinging his elbow backwards. Said elbow was caught in a tight grip before it could make contact, and the brunet turned in confusion. The nose belonged to one of the two unknowns who had stood behind Erwin, blonde and mustached, though Eren now recognized his robes as being of the priestly order, making the olfactory-assaulter Head Priest Mike. Eren’s confusion at being sniffed quickly turned to mute horror, though, as he realized that while the nose belonged to the Head Priest, the grip on his arm most certainly did not. Grand Prince Levi had yet to release his hold on Eren’s arm, and the scowl on his face had the younger man’s knees trembling despite himself. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn't —“

“Jäger,” Grand Prince Levi ground out, cutting him off. _Oh, damn, he remembers my name. Shit, fuck, shit_. “Did you once again deem it beneath you to give your full attention while being spoken to?” Eren only blinked, trying desperately to tamp down his quickly growing anxiety. Grand Prince Levi sucked on his teeth in a sharp, impatient gesture, before continuing in a tone and voice that made it very clear he might as well have been talking to a small, rather stupid, child, “Once you were all lined up, it was explained that High Priest Mike would be inspecting you each individually before dividing you into groups.”

“Oh. Um. I didn't catch that,” Eren responded lamely before wincing. _I really am an idiot_. The revelation that Levi was the Grand Prince had Eren scrabbling to compensate for his earlier actions — the last thing he needed was some royal holding a grudge against him because he was incapable of keeping his big mouth shut, so he rushed to add, “I really am sorry. Sir. Lord? Um- Highness! I didn't mean to strike out like that. As well as for, er, earlier?” Eren knew he needed to apologize for that outburst, but despite everything — or perhaps _in_ spite of — the words came difficultly. He managed, however, to scrape them out, if in a short, stilted manner, and from near clenched teeth, “I did not mean to offend you or your peers.”

Levi was quiet, his eyes analyzing every aspect of Eren as he spoke and for a moment after, causing the boy to squirm before he forced himself to stand still, green eyes cast downwards under the piercing inspection. An amused breath of a hum later, and then the grip was gone as Levi turned away without deigning to respond to Eren’s apology. “Are you done here, Mike?” he asked quietly, to which the High Priest nodded, a strange smile on his face, before moving on to sniff the next boy in line, Levi following to stand near him. 

Not until the two men had moved on a ways did Eren lift his gaze, only to realize that nearly every other pair of eyes in the hall was locked on him. He had the other boys’ undivided attention, thanks to his near assault of the Head of the whole damn Church, their faces set in varying degrees of disdain and amusement. 

With the Grand Prince’s stark disregard of his apology, as well as the tittering stares of the other young men, Eren’s irritation only grew as he caught sight of Sir Walling perched on a balcony amidst a small audience of nobles. The lord couldn't have looked more smug as he watched Eren make a mess of things, and it took all of the brunet’s remaining self-restraint not to barrel up the stairs and toss the piggy-eyed, little bastard right over the rail. The thought actually made Eren feel better as he imagined the squeal the man would make as he fell to, well, not his demise — Eren couldn't imagine killing someone, even a prick like Walling — but at least to breaking a leg. Preferably both. And maybe an arm, too. Squeeeel.

Piggy, indeed. 

The fantasy had Eren smiling in somewhat dreamy satisfaction, and Sir Walling’s own spiteful smirk quickly turned into a frown as Eren appeared to happily recover from his ruinous encounter. Walling turned to mutter something at the man next to him who, in turn, focused his own attention on Eren with a leer. 

Eren responded by lifting both his hands high and shooting matching crude gestures in their directions. 

Both men gasped dramatically, and Eren cackled in satisfaction while Walling shot to his feet and stormed towards the stairs. The young man gained more looks from around the room at that, and he was sure that his actions would only come to bite him in the ass later, adding to the trouble he no doubt already found himself in. As Walling’s friend continued to open and close his mouth like a carp, face colored red in indignant offense, though, Eren couldn’t really find it in himself to care. 

It was worth it. 

x

High Priest Mike’s sniffing of the Cotidianum had indicated something to the man, evidently, as after he had made his rounds, they lost another third of their numbers. Mike made his way around the room once more, occasionally indicating with a jerk of his head when a boy had met the end of his journey. As he neared Eren, the boy once more clasped his hands tightly in silent supplication to whatever ruling spirit might be listening, that he would be sent home, too. Finally, Mike stood before Eren, Erwin and the other group leaders behind _him_ , and for the first time, rather than stride by with a simple nod or shake of his head, Mike paused. Eren felt his mouth go dry. The High Priest tilted his head with a contemplating look on his face, seeming to stare right through Eren who hoped said head would just go on and continue moving to tilt in the other direction in the universal gesture for ‘no.’ The man only smiled enigmatically, however, before moving on. Eren felt his stomach heave as the other nobles trailed after him, Hanji giving him a convulsive, though excited, wave with a stage whispered, ‘Good job, Bean!’ Not even his relief that Levi had altogether ignored him could stop Eren from tiredly bringing his hand up to palm at his face. 

A glance at the gallery above showed a superior looking Walling, and Eren glared as he glanced between the noble, the High Priest and the Prince. Other than sounding like the beginning to a bad joke, were the three conspiring against him as punishment for his insolence? 

Fury that these entitled people would use their power to torment a poor nobody like him arose. Sir Walling had declared that Eren would be ‘left in the pony stocks,’ and Levi’s opinion of the boy did not seem to be much better, so they continued to hold him captive, essentially, in punishment. All of this because he was born Cotidianum. Anger stirred and bubbled, and Eren, ever brash, found a resolve growing within himself. _Fine_. He would show them. It was obvious he wasn't going anywhere, so rather than fight against his predicament, he would fight _for_ it. He would prove that his caste did not define him; he would prove _himself_ , that he had intelligence and worth, and when the prettiest, richest noble woman came looking for an addition to her harem, she would pick him. That would show those bastards. And once Eren was set up in his new, posh life, he would send for his mother and give her the life she deserved. If his mistress refused, he would convince her, one way or another — no matter the means necessary. Eren refused to think on that last bit too closely, but accepted it at face value. _No matter the means._

Eren would commit himself to this ‘census’; he would fight, and he would win. 

Forget operation ‘Escape All Notice’ — Eren would be the most memorable stallion in this damn pony show if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanji is this universes Darwin.
> 
> Culling, from “cull”:  
> verb: -to select from a large quantity; obtain from a variety of sources.  
> -to reduce the population of (a wild animal) by selective slaughter.  
> -to send (an inferior or surplus animal on a farm) to be slaughtered.  
> -to pick (flowers or fruit).
> 
> x


	4. These Chapter Numbers Got All Messed Up so WTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren takes a bath and gets more closely acquainted with Hanji than he was expecting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH COMMAS AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME
> 
> (I don't have a beta, so please excuse any spelling/punctuation errors etc. Except the excess of commas. I won't apologize for those.)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> x

When all was said and done, there was still a group of 100+ boys in the hall. Eren watched with thinly veiled envy as the rejects trickled away after being thanked for their time. But, _no_ — envy wouldn't do anymore, he reminded himself. He had to commit to this nonsense, now.   
   
Erwin took to the dais once more and instructed the boys to begin counting off down the line until they were split into four groups by height. Eren wasn't sure what being tall or short had to do with anything, really, but he remained silent for once and did as he was instructed. He couldn't keep the twitch from his eye, however, when his middling-height group was assigned none other than Prince Levi as its leader. His theory that Sir Walling was leading the nobles in a conspiracy against him was beginning to seem more plausible by the minute.

Eren and about 20 other boys of roughly the same height clustered together in front of the Royal in uneasy silence. Levi, for his part, made no move to break said silence, and instead stood with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, inspecting each boy from head to foot. When that scrutinizing gaze landed on Eren, the boy bit the inside of his cheek and glowered at the back of whoever stood in front of him. As if sensing the green eyed youth’s wrath, the object of his projected focus turned nervously, and Eren forced his face into the semblance of a smile, before Levi finally turned his appraisal to the next boy. 

‘Bloody hell,’ Eren muttered under his breath. Nothing had even _happened_ yet, and his hands were already shaking with pent up adrenaline, curtesy of his temper. This was going to be miserable. 

“Congratulations,” Levi’s dry tone broke through Eren’s brooding. “It is still too early in the process to go into details, but know that you have been chosen for consideration for a worthy cause, one that will provide great stability to the kingdom. If at the end of all of this you are selected, you may very well help determine the direction of this kingdom’s future. As such, I urge you all to take the various tests and tasks you will undergo these next two weeks seriously.” Here his gaze turned to Eren who forced himself to breathe evenly. “We will know if you are simply being lazy or careless, or even just belligerent, and rather than be sent home, you will be punished.” The boys took in a collective gulp of air while Eren clenched his jaw. “As I said, the Kingdom’s future rests in one of you, whether you deserve it or not, and as Cotidianum, your full cooperation is expected in this matter.” 

And there it was, the reason Eren had decided to invest his efforts in the culling: to make sure people who held such classist beliefs choked on their words. 

Levi continued, sounding almost bored, “For now, you will retire to your sleeping quarters. Near your quarters there is a bath hall where water can be pumped into tubs, though be aware that there is a cap to how much may be drawn. Having said that, I expect each and every one of you to clean both yourselves, as well your clothing, thoroughly before even _sitting_ on a bed. I will inspect your room tomorrow, and if even one sheet has traces of dirt on it, well….let’s just say even your ass-cracks should be sparkling by the time you’re done bathing.” Eren’s eyes widened at such vulgar language coming from the lips of a prince, but neither he nor any of the other boys laughed; nothing about Levi’s words was anything less than threatening. “Good. I’ll see you all bright and early. Follow the other boys to the rooms; yours is marked with an “L” on the door. Dismissed.”

Despite Levi’s order, the boys remained where they stood, no doubt trying to process the bits of information they had just been given. Eren, however, couldn't be bothered to care — so long as he could _finally_ get off of his tired feet. With a roll of his eyes, he quickly turned away from Levi and his squad, and made his way after a noble already leading another group away, pushing his way to the front of that other group: Levi had said there was a limit on how much water was available, and the way Eren figured, he did _not_ want to be last into the tubs; he’d rather not be left to bathe in the other boys’ filth, and as the saying went, ‘first come, first serve.’ As strange a demand as it had been, Eren could not deny that the idea of washing away all the dirt and dust collected from two days on the road, before settling into a nice, clean bed, sounded close to heavenly. 

The noble led them back into the entry hall at ground level and up the grand staircase there. The first floor was a long mezzanine that extended along the width of the estate and looked out on a lush garden in the back. At either end of the long floor, two hallways could be seen to branch off in both directions, one length of the resulting “T” shape curving around the front lawn and the drive Eren had ridden up, the other, much longer branch of hall visible through the mezzanine windows, extending backwards to frame part of the garden in a partial rear courtyard. The group continued up two floors, and with each pass, the stairs became less and less ornate, until plain, simply finished wood slid under Eren’s hand. He preferred the more rustic style, but couldn't help feeling slighted: of course they would be put up on the servants’ floor. Reaching said floor, the boys began to disperse to their allotted rooms, but Eren made a beeline straight for the door he could clearly see marked as ‘Bathroom’ in simple, black lines. He made sure to note the other door marked ‘Garderobe’ as he hustled forward, set away from the other rooms. For once he was grateful for the nobility’s delicate sensibilities which had the toilet set so far apart from the living quarters — he did not want to even think about how smelly that room would become after being used by so many people, this huge group of young men, especially.

Eren made his way into the large bathroom which sported about a dozen wooden tubs made of large barrels sawed in half. He shivered once, as his bare feet made contact with the white tiled floor, a surprising luxury, but one which made cleaning much easier, he reasoned. Tugging off his clothes as he moved, he approached the farthest tub in the room and took a moment to fumble with the pump before icey cold water came tumbling from the spigot. Glancing around, he spotted a small shelf stacked with bars of soap and wash clothes, and another piled with soft, if somewhat threadbare, towels. Surprised at the relative luxury being given to them, and grabbing one of each, he draped them over the tub’s edge before plunging into the freezing water with a barely repressed squeak. 

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit, gods that is frigid, fuck me!” Eren kept up a constant litany under his breath as he quickly sudsed up his washcloth and began scrubbing his skin with a ferocity bordering on violent — at least the friction gave the brief illusion of warmth. Once his skin was red and raw, he stood up from the now murky water as the other boys from his squad only just began to find their ways in. Remembering Hanji’s filthy robes verses Levi’s pristinely pressed ensemble, he doubted that the other squads had been given the same orders to clean, as his had. Taking advantage of his early arrival and the still mostly empty bathroom, Eren turned the pump back on to rinse the dirty water off his limbs before stepping out of the tub and leaning over it to give his matted hair a good and thorough scouring under the fresh flow, remembering to get behind his ears as his mother always scolded him to do.

Finally clean, he shut the pump off and wrapped the towel around his waist before remembering the rest of Levi’s orders. A hesitant frown in place, Eren pinched his decidedly filthy clothing between two fingers, holding it up for inspection. He hadn't seen any spare clothing on the shelves, and another look around proved that none would be forthcoming. Nibbling on his lip for a moment, and beginning to feel pressed for time as the squad continued to steadily arrive, Eren eventually gave a shrug and submerged the articles in the tub, using the same soap he’d cleaned his body with to wash them clean. By the time he had finished, he couldn't see to the bottom of the tub for how dirty the water had become, and seeing the line of boys waiting for their turn, he was glad to have rushed ahead. Wringing his clothes as dry as possible, he debated whether to put the damp items back on, but decided to wait until he had checked the sleeping quarters — maybe spare clothes would be found there. Exiting the bathroom, he saw the other boys begin to face the same predicament and shook his head as many chose to forego cleaning their clothes at all before putting them back on. What was even the point of washing, then?

Striding down the hall in nothing but his towel, his damp clothes thrown over his shoulder, his bar of soap wrapped in his washcloth in hand (who knew if they would be given more later), Eren received many scandalized looks but ignored them as he searched for the right door. He passed rooms marked “D”, “M” and “H” until there was only one left at the very end of the hall. It was a very long hall. He received a _lot_ of looks. Opening the door, he was met with an extended room with two rows of simple bunks. He chose one at random, laying his still damp clothes across its foot before searching the room for any supplies. He quickly discerned, however, that outside of the occasional stand on which perched a bowl and pitcher for quick washing, the boys had not been given any other necessities. With a put upon sigh, Eren resituated his clothes to hang over the bunk’s frame, and hoped that they would be dry come morning. Slipping under the sheets, he pulled the towel away and also draped it next to his clothes, and then settled back into the plush pillow. Once more, he found himself surprised at the luxuries being given to him and his fellow Cotidianum in such amenities. Speaking of, the other boys had begun trailing in by now, and those that had washed their trousers and tunics had all put them back on to shiver wetly, while the others emitted small puffs of dust with each movement. Either way, they would regret their decisions in the morning, Eren thought with a snort, before rolling over and closing his eyes.

x

 

“Ereenn!” A voice screeched in said boy’s ear, startling him rudely awake. “I’m so sad you weren't put in my squad, why does the cranky one get all the good things? It’s not fair, I tell you! I complained to Erwin, told him you would make a great subject for my research, asked him to reassign you, but the brute refused. _Refused!_ Does no one respect art anymore?! Did that sound dramatic? I said it to sound dramatic, because truthfully it would be for science. But that’s an art form in and of itself, wouldn't you say? Truly. Have you ever observed the commune of an infectious disease? Epidemiologically, it is like a complex dance or symphony, so many moving parts interacting and effecting each other, spreading in such interesting and unexpected ways, bringing sickness and death and _why are you naked_?” This last part was shrieked, laced with pure joy, but Eren’s freshly woken brain still hadn't processed anything beyond his name. Next thing he knew, though, Hanji was crouched next to his bed, tugging at his blankets, trying to pull them away, babbling about further observation being necessary and how it was for the survival of humanity. Eren, for his part, only managed to let out a yelp before clutching said blankets to his chest like a shy virgin on her wedding night.

“S-stop! I’m not dressed!” he sputtered out.

“I know!” Hanji grinned maniacally, renewing their efforts. Eren looked around for help, but the other boys, also woken by Hanji’s shrieks, only looked on in dismay, and not a small amount of horror.

Finally, someone stepped behind the crazed physician, stopping their attempts to expose Eren’s bits to the world with a hard yank on their hair-tail. Hanji’s shrieks of joy turned to squawks of pain, “Ow, ow, _ow_ , Levi, let go of my hair!”

“Then let go of my trainee.”

“But-!” Their protest was cut short with another harsh tug and they finally relented. “Fine!” they let go and stood up, glasses gleaming forebodingly, “But this isn't over! Eren is _important_ , I know it!”

“You said the same thing about that feral squirrel you found wandering the gardens last month,” Levi, who was still blocked from Eren’s view by the bunk above him, drawled.

“Yes, and Nutsy provided a wealth of information before he chewed his own tail off!”

Levi sucked his teeth in disgust, saying nothing, but suddenly Hanji seemed nervous, if their shifting from foot to foot could be taken to mean anything. 

“Right!” they exclaimed, sounding overly cheerful, “I better go see after my own group now — I left them in a garden. Toodles, Eren!” they ducked down to clumsily pat the boy’s cheek and wink lasciviously, “I’ll see your own Nutsy soon enough!” and then they were skipping away with a cackle. 

“Wha-?” Eren blinked blearily, falling back into his pillow and scrubbing his hands over his face. After a moment he registered that Levi had not followed Hanji away but, instead, still stood next to his bunk, arms just visible and crossed. “Um,” Eren slowly leaned forward, making sure to keep the sheet in place. Green eyes met gray, and any words the younger may have risked died in his throat. 

The Prince watched Eren with one eyebrow raised before asking in a flat voice that Eren could have sworn was tinged with amusement at his expense, “Not to give weight to that lunatic’s words, but why _are_ you naked?”

Eren felt a slight blush bloom on his cheeks, but forced it away with a clearing of his throat before managing to answer, “You tell me, Your Cleanliness.” _Wait, what_. Levi’s other eyebrow rose to join the first and Eren mentally shook himself — it was too early for his brain to mouth filter to be fully functioning — before hurrying on, “Shit - oh, shit I didn’t mean to curse-“ he cut himself off violently with a hissed ‘fuck’ under his breath and another dry scrubbing of his face before finishing with a weak, “um, pardon the language. What - what I meant to say is: Your Highness warned us that dirtied sheets would not be tolerated, and putting my clothes back on after they had been washed would only result in musty bedding and clothes, so I chose to let them air dry while I slept.” Eren pursed his lips, stopping the further flow of potential curse words and rambling.

“Hmm,” Levi hummed somewhat consideringly before turning that steel gaze onto the rest of the room, Eren sagging in relief. “And the rest of you? Don’t bother pretending to sleep, now — I know the shitty glassesed one also woke you all up when they did our nude friend, Jäger, here.” Eren fought not to interject with a scathing remark, while the others looked on snidely. “Anyone else take it upon themselves to sleep in only what their mother’s gave them?” 

There were a series of mumbled ‘no, sir’s, and ‘no, your highness’s, and Eren sank further into his sheets at the mocking stares that accompanied them. Did _everyone_ hate him, here? And he hadn’t even started fist fighting, yet, damn. 

“I see. So you all crawled into your freshly laundered sheets sopping wet? Let the water sink through the ticking and into the straw so that it might attract mold?” 

The mocking stares were slowly becoming replaced with nervousness — but Eren, in contrast, felt noticeably cheered. 

“And the others? You decided to simply ignore a direct order and dirty your sheets because you were too lazy to seek an alternate solution? Or because you ignored my warning before managing to even make it that far, and the water cap took effect, leaving you with no water in which to bathe?” Levi quickly strode to the front of the room before barking out, “You will spend the day hauling your mattresses out to the stables where you will replace your damp straw with new, dry straw. In the interim of hanging the ticking to properly dry before re-stuffing, you will spend the morning helping the stablehands with mucking out the stalls and seeing after the horses. If they do not have need for so many extra hands, the rest of you will scrub every square inch of space in the bathroom which you dirtied last night. When you are finished, you may clean yourselves using the well in the kitchen’s courtyard, where you will also scrub out your clothes and wait until they are properly dry, like you should have done last night.” 

The boys began mumbling in dismay, but Levi merely spoke over them, not bothering to modulate volume, his tone cutting across clearly enough. “If you find issue with the orders you have been given, you may spend the evening scrubbing out the dungeons in the basement, where you can then spend the night.” The mumbling quickly ceased. “First, though, get some breakfast in the mess hall, located in the Accommodations wing of the estate. Except you, Jäger.” The smile that had steadily been growing on the younger’s face quickly vanished. “After breakfast, you are to report to Squad H, under Hanji. Since they were so keen, I’ll let Shitty-Glasses find a purpose for your naked ass, today.” And with that, he dismissed the group of now sullen boys. Eren could only stare after Levi’s retreating back in panicked shock. 

He was too young to die. 

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren received a lot of looks walking down that hall not just because he’s butt naked, but also because he’s fine as hell.   
> Hanji knows this, the perv. That’s why we love them.  
> Also, what is science? Every time I give Hanji dialogue, I am entrusting my life to google. Feel free to correct me, when necessary, if you know The Science. 
> 
>  
> 
> x


	5. Friends in Low Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> I will be posting every two weeks, now, instead of every 8 days or so, as I was doing.   
> This is because I am s l o w at writing, and have very little time in which to do so.  
> Thank you for your understanding! 
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

AFTER A quick though surprisingly tasty breakfast of fresh breads and cheeses (spent grumbling to himself about whether he was being rewarded or punished), Eren reluctantly dragged his way into the courtyard where Hanji and their group was gathered. He paused on the threshold into the garden space, trepidation making itself known in the way his hands curled into loose fists at his sides. As for the group, the boys, all smaller than him, were at that moment balancing on one foot whilst patting their heads with one hand and rubbing in a circular motion over their stomaches with the other. Hanji seemed engrossed in taking notes as they walked up and down the short lines the boys stood in, occasionally barking out a laugh or overly enthusiastic correction of technique. Eren continued to hover by the door at a complete loss — what the hell was going on? 

“Ah! Bean, my Bean! Just in time, yes you are!” Hanji beamed, striding towards him. Linking their arm through his, they began to drag him towards the others, seemingly unaware of the way his heels dug into the ground. “Levi explained to me why this morning might not have been appropriate,” the physician laced the word with heavy derision, “but obviously there was nothing to worry about — otherwise why would you now come so _willingly_ , eh?” They punctuated the sentence with a hearty chortle, and Eren wondered about Hanji’s grasp of the English language. 

“Now, look here, Bean — I’m testing a theory of mine regarding critical behavior in human bimanual coordination that posits that in such situations, a combination of an asymmetrical representation of the ipsilateral limb in cortex and phase transitions brings the limbs into a more energetically favorable state.* Fascinating, really! And it allows for further evidence of motor dominance in humans, with linkage to motor areas of the brain! Not that anyone in the scientific community will listen when I tell them that our brains have various sections and purposes to begin with, the old farts, they still think _bleeding_ is an effective medical treatment, the idiots, but who needs them anyway, right?!” 

“Uhhh-”

“Right! So now, here’s where you come in — remember how I was telling you about how you will save the world?”

“Umm-”

“Good! Well, this will prove a wonderful test for your most basic motor functions and skills. Who knows! Might come in handy one day. If not, it’s always good fun to see a group of pretty boys make fools of themselves, and you are really, very pretty!” As if on cue, one of the boys fell over with a yelp and a cry, while the rest continued to wobble and sweat. “Well, go on, Bean! Join your brothers! Let’s see if it’s more than just your eyes that make you stand apart — or at least up! Ha ha!” They swatted his rump before continuing their rounds, leaving a round-eyed Eren to shuffle in line and join in the absurd, embarrassing display. 

“How long have you been at this?” he whispered to the boy next to him in quizzical disbelief.

“Hours,” the boy moaned, seeming near tears, “Hanji had us up at dawn — we didn't even get breakfast! They told us we’d get to rest come noon, but it’s so far away… Two boys have already passed out!”

“That’s because you have to bend your knees every once in a while to ensure proper blood flow!” Hanji’s voice suddenly boomed from directly behind them. “Not my fault if you refuse to _listen_!” they singsonged before snapping out a, “Bean, lift that leg higher!” and marching on.

Suddenly, lugging mattresses and mucking stables seemed like a wonderful way to spend the day, and Eren was almost certain he was being punished, though for what he wasn’t quite sure. 

The day slowly dragged forward, and Eren and the other boys were lead through progressively more ludicrous trials, of which he was sure could in no way have any actual purpose — scientific, as Hanji claimed, or otherwise. Lunch came and went, and it wasn’t until well after noon, when yet _another_ boy had passed out, that the mad physician exclaimed in consternation, “What is going on?! Did you boys not eat enough today??”

When none answered, Eren hesitantly raised his hand halfway into the air before realizing that this wasn't a schoolroom, dropping it quickly with a simple, “Yes.”

They spun to face him, “What?”

“Well — yes. I’ve had breakfast, but not lunch, and your team has had neither.”

Hanji froze, lips forming a comically exaggerated ‘O’, before they laughed expansively, managing to get out the words, “Whoops! Completely slipped my mind, boys! Go ahead and grab some grub and then be back here in an hour — follow the clock tower’s time. Oh my goodness — ha! — terribly sorry!”

Moans of relief followed, as boys dropped from each other’s shoulders clumsily.

“Good of you to speak up, Bean! Very good!” Hanji beamed as Eren jumped forward to catch a boy as he slipped from a nearby tree. “My goodness, yes, very good!” 

Eren only grimaced in thanks, setting the other boy on his feet with a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder, before the group, as a commiserating whole, began trudging towards the Accommodations Wing. 

On their way to a very late lunch, Eren and Team Hanji passed through the servants’ courtyard, and once more the young man found himself questioning whether he was being rewarded or punished: standing around the common well, there, at the back of the kitchens, was a very damp, very cold, and very naked Team Levi. The boys, who Eren vaguely recognized, looked positively miserable as they awkwardly grouped together to conserve body heat, while their senses of propriety had them holding back from quite huddling, covering their private parts in embarrassment. Their clothes hung from lines pulled taut across the courtyard, dripping steadily, the boys watching their displaced clothes with rapt attention, as if their stares alone could hurry their drying along. Just how long they had been waiting there, and how long they would continue to have to wait, was a question Eren had no desire guessing at. 

Spotting Eren, who was neither wet nor naked, the suffering boys shot him nasty looks. Eren only rolled his eyes, nearly used to their antagonism at this point. The boy who he had caught falling out of the tree eyed the hostile group and turned to Eren, “What’s their problem?”

Turning to the boy, who had introduced himself as Armin, Eren grimaced, “A tiny man who seems set on pitting them against me.”

Armin’s face scrunched before shifting to light panic, “You- you shouldn't talk about _him_ that way!” he whispered loudly, glancing around nervously. “He’s the - _you know_!”

“Royal pain in my ass?”

Armin spluttered, a sound that was half laugh despite himself. “Well, royal, yes. But not…” the small boy trailed off, a considering look on his face.

“What?” Eren demanded suspiciously. 

“Oh,” Armin returned brightly, “just thinking about how lucky you were to avoid that particular punishment.”

“It wasn't that hard,” Eren grumbled, not convinced by Armin’s deflection. “I just followed orders.”

“From his Royal Highness,” Armin hummed before grinning, eyeing Eren from head to toe. “Then in that case, lucky for us that you avoided that particular punishment — not exactly something I would want to see.”

“Hah-how dare you!” Eren blustered, as amused as he was insulted, “I’ll have you know that your very own squad leader has been more than eager to do just that!”

Armin barked out an incredulous laugh, “Why?”

Eren pretended to feel slighted before grinning self- deprecatingly, “I have no idea. I’m actually with you: this is not something anyone would want to see.” And then the two were out of the courtyard and following the rich scents of meat and bread, leaving the soggy boys behind. 

x

The next week passed quickly, in a similar manner as that first day, and while Eren had caught a respite with Team Hanji, from then on he worked with his squad performing various duties around the grounds, from weeding the gardens to scrubbing grout with tiny bristle brushes. And every night, Eren and his squad was made to bathe, Eren making sure to push and elbow his way to the front of the group, no matter how much the other boys grumbled and hissed threats at him; there was no love lost between Eren and his squad since the beginning, so he did not feel bad fostering that already present animosity if it meant getting clean water to wash with while also avoiding Levi’s wrath.

Speaking of the Prince, Eren became more confused about what to think of him with each passing day. Levi was scary, there was no doubting that, and stricter than Eren’s own mother, which was saying something, but he never unleashed that scariness unless provoked, and his expectations were not exactly impossible to attain: he expected his squad to listen and follow directions, and to do things the right way the first time, without having to be told twice. Eren did his best to smother his natural proclivity to buck at authority, to keep his head bowed and do as he was told, but Levi’s abrasive behavior did not help. 

The Prince did not act like a prince. 

Though he was never outright hostile, he was still rude and vulgar, and had no problem humiliating those who failed to listen, all while giving a running commentary on bodily functions. Which was as hilarious as it was disgusting and alarming, Eren was grudgingly willing to admit, and made no sense considering his positively anal attention to cleanliness. 

But by the time Eren’s head hit his pillow each night, it was pounding from the effort it took to keep it down during the day, the effort to keep his mouth shut. 

It didn’t help that by day three, Sir Walling had begun making his presence known. Eren was scrubbing lichen from the back exterior of the manor, a bucket of soapy water at his feet, a large brush in hand, when he heard a tell-tale snickering behind him. 

“Pathetic,” came the unfortunately familiar voice, before plodding footsteps trailed away. Eren kept his focus on his task with gritted teeth, refusing to give Walling the satisfaction of his attention, and instead channeled all of his rage into scrubbing the shit out of that wall. He finished his section far ahead of his peers, much to their disgruntlement. 

Walling would meander by everyday, while Eren was covered in sweat and grime, often knee deep in dirt, and part with some snide remark reinforcing Eren’s lowliness and inevitable failure. Eren clenched his knuckles and finished well before his group every time. Levi would only hum and tip his head, when Eren approached him, pink cheeked and shiny with exertion, indicating that, task complete, Eren was allowed to retire for the night. 

At least now Eren was pretty sure that the asshole noble was not, in fact, in cahoots with Prince Levi. Each time he would pass the Prince observing his squad working, Walling’s bow of deference was anything but respectful, and was often accompanied by a barely concealed sneer. The Prince, like Eren, did not even bother to acknowledge the piggy-eyed man’s presence.

Instead of going to bed, Eren sought out his new friend, Armin, who was always performing some inane task or other under Hanji. For being the Head Court Physician, Hanji inspired little confidence as to their level of intelligence. But despite their slightly deranged ways, as well as their continuing deviancy (Eren had caught them trying to get a peek at him in the baths TWICE, now, not counting the first morning in his bunk), Hanji was kind and always welcomed Eren to join or observe in the day’s activities, as he always found himself with time to spare in the evenings, now, thanks to Walling. 

Sometimes Eren would take Hanji up on their offer. So far, Eren had found himself dangled by ropes as if to fly, eating as many grapes in 12 minutes as he could, and spinning in circles with his forehead pressed to a broom handle before attempting to run in a straight line. Each of those sessions with Hanji had ended in tearful laughter, Armin leaning into his side, as they both attempted to reign in their hysterics. Hanji, for all their seriousness about how important these “experiments” were, had only been overjoyed to see her squad enjoying themselves so thoroughly. 

More often than not, though, Eren would sit quietly to the side while he waited for Armin to finish. He would braid long grasses together, weave flowers into crowns — anything to keep his hands and mind busy; to quell the restless instinct to _move_ that his anxiety fostered. Because, while Eren had reluctantly gotten used to Levi’s strange ways and their senseless, menial work around the manor; while Eren enjoyed his evenings with Armin, and even his interactions with Hanji, he could not forget what this all was for. 

Eren hadn’t found a new position as a manor servant, though it sure seemed that way. He wasn’t away at some camp or school to learn a new skill or trade, making friends and memories. Eren had been stolen away from his home. He was being measured and tested against a strict, albeit _really_ strange (if these tasks he was performing were, indeed, the tests) set of standards. And at the end of all this, he would be poked and prodded and judged, not for who he was, but _what_. 

Nobles would apply their own, strange criticisms and evaluations, and Eren would be snatched out of his world, never to return home, and forced to _serve_. 

The more he thought about it, the more he questioned his decision to “win the show.” While proving Walling wrong would be immensely satisfying, was it worth it? In the heat of his anger, that first day, he had convinced himself that he would be able to find a wealthy noble to sponsor him, and that he would manage to influence them into helping his mother. But wasn’t that just wishful thinking? Would a member of the Expolitum _ever_ deign to follow through on a request made by a Cotidianum, let alone even _listen_ to that appeal in the first place? Was Eren just kidding himself?

He tossed from side to side each night, trying to settle his doubts, trying to maintain his optimism, as these thoughts whispered through his head. 

They sounded annoyingly like Prince Levi. 

At the end of the first week, Eren’s mindset was one of resignation. He had no idea what the criteria they were being judged by were, and so had no idea how to present himself in either a negative or positive light, regardless. He had already proven his “skill” at cleaning, and with the echo of Levi’s threat that those who did not give their full efforts would be punished, not simply dismissed, Eren knew he had no choice but to continue working hard. His anger and brash decision had already gotten him in too deep; it was too late to diminish his diligence. For whatever the fuck that was worth, when said diligence was in cleaning toilets. 

Either way, though. Eren had made it this far, and he had no choice but to rally that flagging optimism of his and push forward. He _would _prove Walling wrong, and he _would_ help his mother. __

__He had one week down…just one more week to go._ _

__x_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Walling, amiright? 
> 
> *I have no idea what the shit I (or Hanji) am talking about. Here’s a link. cogsci.stackexchange.com/questions/77/what-structures-in-the-brain-are-called-upon-to-strengthen-coupling-between-bila
> 
> I literally could come up with nothing while thinking of what “experiments” to have Hanji order her squad to perform, so picked the silliest, stupidest things I could think of (plus a vague allusion to the 3dm gear). Including dizzy-bat, evidently. Anyone else spend way too much of their childhood killing brain cells with this game?
> 
> Please leave me comments so I know if you even like this dumb fic lmao
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> xo


	6. As Easy as 1, 2, 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the final countdownn *doodle doo do, doodle do-do-doo*--ish
> 
> The boys lose more of their numbers, but gain something in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, hi, hi, hello!  
> Thanks for waiting so patiently for this next chapter!  
> Even though it’s kinda boring, but squint and you might see some f~e~e~l~s  
> Enjoy, and thanks again for reading!
> 
> p.s. as always, un-beta'd, so feel free to point out any glaring mistakes! Except my commas! ;__;
> 
> x

THE first morning of his second week at the estate dawned with about the same level of chaos Eren had come to expect, at this point. A loud crash followed by theatrical shrieks roused the young man from his sleep, and he casually marched by Hanji, tangled up in lengths of rope and splinters of wood, limbs akimbo, near the foot of his bunk. He ignored their histrionic pleas for help, as he was pretty sure that their current predicament had something to do with him, as per usual, and only wrapped himself more tightly in his bedsheets on his way to the toilet. The other boys glared at him, angry to have been woken even one minute sooner than necessary.  
Same old, same old. 

On his return from the water closet, Eren found the dorm-room mercifully Hanji free, though his bemused relief was only short-lived as his equally short squad leader took their place. The other boys had quickly learned their lesson after their first night, and now stood already dressed in their freshly laundered clothes. Eren, delayed by his escape to the restroom, rushed to do the same as Levi slowly paced down the center of the bunks.

“Morning, brats. Change of routine, today: after breakfast, you will find your way back to the grand hall and arrange yourselves in the same line as last time. The other squads will join you shortly after. There shouldn't be any questions, because that’s about as straight forward a set of instructions as you can fucking get. Dismissed.” 

The boys began to disperse accordingly.

Eren, one leg partly through his pants, stumbled on his other and knocked his forehead against the upper bunk’s frame, nearly braining himself, as Levi stopped by him. Mumbling a curse under his breath as he rubbed at what was already the beginning of a lovely bruise, pants still more half off than on, Eren turned towards the prince with a small glare. He told himself it was from the pain, not any rebellious sentiments currently making themselves unprovokedly known. 

Levi gave him a judgmental once over, as if to tell him to get on with it, before drawling, “Apparently Shitty-Glasses made quite the scene this morning.” Eren hmphd. “Also, apparently, they were trying to suspend themselves from the ceiling, that they might get a full and stealthy view of you.” He said ‘you’ with a note of incredulity and, Eren was sure, not a small bit of scorn. He hmphd again, somewhat more forcefully. 

“I’m flattered,” Eren bit out scathingly, turning away to reach for his shirt. A small grimace pulled at his lips as he felt the muscles in his shoulders, sore from yesterday’s latest bout of manic scrubbing, stretching as he lifted his arms up to pull the shirt on. 

Levi did not respond. 

The hot-headed youth turned back to the prince slowly, and somewhat more meekly, at the heavy silence. “Sorry,” he mumbled out, eyes down, for his breach in attitude, “Your Highness.” He chanced a glance up through his lashes. The Prince was staring at Eren through narrowed eyes accusingly, lips thin. Eren jumped a bit at the intense stare, thoughts beginning to turn nervously — had he really been _that_ rude? Oh, gods, please, he hoped that didn't mean he would be mucking the stables tonight.

After an awkwardly prolonged moment of silence, the Prince seemed to mentally shake himself, before promptly turning on one heel and walking for the doors with a casual, “Hurry or breakfast will be all gone, Jäger,” thrown over his shoulder.

Alone in the room, Eren threw his arms up in exasperation and kicked his bunk. Why were nobles so weird and confusing!

x

Breakfast proved to be a lesson in patience, as Eren fielded glares and snarky comments from the boys. The animosity of his own squad seemed to have spread to the others, who were all too happy to find an outlet for their mounting anxieties and home-sickness. Armin alone was a source of kindness. 

Eren wasn't sure how he had failed to notice it before, but while all of the other squads were made up of boys similar in build and coloring, Hanji’s group, as if to mirror their own idiosyncratic ways, was made up of a mix of looks. Armin’s small stature, blonde hair, and blue eyes, stood out in the small sea of brunettes. He waved Eren over to what had become their usual place: in an empty corner where Eren could put his back to the wall. 

One “accidentally” spilled tray of porridge over his head on his fourth day had been enough. His only consolation was that the particular idiot responsible for that was firmly denied a new bowl and had gone hungry the rest of the day as a lesson to be more careful with the meal so “graciously provided.” For once, Expolitum snobbery had worked to Eren’s advantage. 

“I assume you also were given the orders to report to the hall?” Eren asked his only friend as he took his seat. 

Armin hummed his affirmation around a bite of buttered bread. 

“I’m not sure whether to be worried or reassured,” Eren groused through his own full mouth. 

Armin swallowed before daintily wiping at his mouth, “Well, I assume that the nobles will be thinning the group, once more. So, maybe both?” He, like Eren, was not naive enough to believe that what they were experiencing was in the name of a census. 

“Yeah, but which option is the one that’s supposed to reassure me: making the cut or going home?” the brunette mused, tone wry. 

Armin smiled, “Maybe both?”

“Maybe,” Eren chuckled. 

 

x

 

Eren was surprised when, at the hall’s entrance, Armin gave him a quick, but tight, hug. 

“Good luck. Either way,” the smaller of the two grinned.

Eren responded with his own, more muted smile, and a soft, “Yeah.” He ruffled the downy fluff that was Armin’s hair, causing the blonde to squawk, before turning away with a brighter smile.

The boys were quick to assemble and line up, eager to find out what was going on. Once more, it seemed Eren (and Armin) was the only one to fully grasp the situation. He blew air between his lips noisily and scratched the back of his head with a frown. 

Eren wasn’t unintelligent by any means, but he wasn't the most clever of boys, either. So how he was the only one of two, out of a group of roughly a hundred, that was observant enough to draw the right conclusions was incredibly confusing. Were the others really just that _stupid_? Should he be proud of himself or worried for the future of his kingdom, if this sampling of its citizens was anything to go by? 

If he was the smartest in the lot — not counting Armin, who was clearly a genius — maybe Hanji’s theory about Eren being “Humanity’s Last Hope” wasn't too far off base… Eren forced a quiet laugh to himself to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling that puddled in his gut with that thought. They’d be doomed for sure, then.

Once more, Erwin took to the dais, and a quiet fell about the room amidst the usual hushing and shoulder nudging. 

“Congratulations, Cotidianum of Mitras! You have done just as we, the Expolitum, asked of you, and worked hard to cooperate fully. You have shown us your worth, and we have measured you accordingly.” He beamed, a proud father gazing at his brood. The boys ate it up, eyes shining with gratification. Eren — pouted. Silently. 

Being measured by their ability to shovel shit, how wonderful — maybe Eren would receive bonus points for his ability to stomach the smell the longest. He rolled his eyes, but continued to listen to Erwin’s underhanded speech quietly. 

“We know that you tried your very best, and you should be satisfied knowing that alone. Know that, if at this time you are sent home, it is not a failure. Do not feel disgraced for not being chosen, as only the very select shall remain. You have done your duty, as you were called to do, and you may return home with your chins held high. We know you expended all the energies you are capable of, and we do not judge you, so do not judge yourselves.” 

Eren felt his eyes bulging as he choked on the vitriol he desperately bit back at the patronizing tone and words Erwin was using. He was speaking to them as if they were idiots! Which, true Eren had just entertained similar thoughts, but he was Cotidianum, too — only a fellow Cotidianum was allowed to harbor negative thoughts and attitudes about other Cotidianum! 

He cringed a bit at the innate hypocrisy, but knew it was so. Erwin had no idea who he was talking to, who these boys were, how they lived their lives, or what they endured — what _Eren_ endured. Erwin had no right to treat them with anything less than the proper, genuine respect due to a fellow human being. 

But Erwin was Expolitum. He had been raised this way, with these views and beliefs. How was he supposed to know any better? As a person of power, Eren would have hoped that Erwin would use his position to enact the most good possible, which would include learning about the kingdom’s citizens _truly_. It seemed, though, that the opposite was reality: the more power, the greater the divide, and the more insurmountable that divide became. 

How did you change a system, a people’s belief, when they did not know it even needed changing in the first place? When they genuinely thought it benefited both sides of the divide? When those who saw it needed changing were disregarded due to their station, and the only ones capable of doing the changing were the ones doing the disregarding?

Eren was struck with a heavy sadness.

“Once more, we ask that you wait patiently as decisions are made. Thank you all, once more!” Erwin finished with one last beatific beam, before stepping down from the dais, Priest Mike and the squad leaders following behind. 

The nobles made their rounds once again, and, again, Sir Walling and various other Expolitum sat scattered on the balconies to watch. Eren wondered what they did with their time to entertain themselves when they weren't spending it watching the boys; if this _was_ their entertainment, then their lives must be very boring, indeed. 

As Mike lead the nobles around the hall, he looked to the individual boy’s squad leader for some silent sign before motioning for the boy to step forward or remain in place. When he reached Eren, the young man strained to catch some motion or signal from Levi, but he remained, as ever, impassive. Mike, however, seemed to read something in the Prince’s stoic face, as he quickly indicated that Eren should step forward before moving on. Eren did as bade, biting at his lower lip, glancing down the line. He was relieved to see that Armin had also been ordered to step forward, and wondered what that meant for them. 

His answer came shortly later as Erwin, not bothering with the dais, simply called from the center of the room, “Those who were not asked to step forward, we thank you for your efforts, but you may head to your rooms, if you have any belonging there, and make your way to the front drive. The manor staff will assist you to the proper carriages, that you might make your way safely home. Good luck in your future endeavors.”

Eren blinked rapidly. He hadn't thought he would actually make it this far. 

The room cleared, a process that involved a frankly absurd amount of glares and elbowing from the boys streaming past (as if Eren had personally denied them the right to stay). Eren stood stock still and flinty eyed, focused on nothing — if he allowed himself to acknowledge even one of them, allowed himself to take even the most innocuous insult to heart, his fists would swing, and blood would flow, and gods only knew what it would take to bring his rage to a halt. As indignant as Erwin’s remarks and the Expolitum’s attitudes made Eren feel on their behalf, these Cotidianum in particular truly were acting like assholes, unfortunately. Though Eren reminded himself is was all due to circumstance. And bedsides, they were his assholes, he guessed. Sort of. Er, well — he cut his thought process off before it became more convoluted.

As the doors closed behind the last boy, Erwin called out a simple, “And again.” 

And — again — Mike lead the squad leaders around the 50 or so boys left. 

Things progressed the same, with Mike looking to each squad leader for some sign, but this time he seemed to deliberate longer, holding each leader’s gaze for seconds, raising a brow here, huffing a breath there. In some cases he walked circles around the boy in question, sniffing like a hound on a scent. 

Armin he motioned forward with barely a pause, and the briefest of cursory glances towards Hanji. 

When they reached Eren, however, a deep frown overtook the Priest’s face. 

Mike strode forward and, for the first time that Eren had seen, reached out and _touched_ , tilting Eren’s face up by the chin. Eren blinked at the angle and swallowed convulsively. Mike stared unerringly into the boy’s eyes, fingers still firm on his chin, as if reading a map, and Eren strained not to blink, overcome with the feeling that to do so would disrupt whatever the Priest was attempting; his breath came more shortly, but he did not falter from the holy man’s challenging gaze. 

After a long minute, Mike gently released his grip before lithely stepping behind Eren, sniffing along the crown of his head. Eren’s eyes snapped to Levi, hoping against his better judgment to gleam some insight there. But, of course, the Prince gave away nothing. After another long minute, Mike paused in his sniffing, and brought his face over Eren’s shoulder, nearly cheek to cheek, his body close enough to radiate heat against Eren’s back. Eren tried not to flinch at the invasive, almost intimate, act, but doubted he was successful, though he once again held his ground, refusing to balk. 

Levi’s fixed gaze suddenly narrowed, but the sudden break in the Prince’s impassive stare meant nothing to Eren when Mike whispered in his ear, “Step forward.” Eren repressed a shiver at the puff of warm air on his skin, and quickly skittered forward, eager to put space between himself and the priest. 

Eren risked a glance over his shoulder, but Mike’s scrutiny was fixed forward, challenge written in the angle of his brows. Eren whipped forward again to see who Mike was silently arguing with, but Levi was already turning on his heel to lead the nobles to the next boy. 

As before, the boys who had stayed in place were asked to leave. Also as before, they passed Eren with physical and verbal jabs. Eren rolled his eyes skyward in annoyance, but that was a mistake as he met the eyes of Walling, seated primly and smirking on the balcony, though he seemed rather twitchy and unhappy, beneath it all. Eren guessed Walling hadn't expected him to get this far in proceedings, and took the noble’s poorly disguised displeasure as a good sign. 

Down to 20, the boys looked at each other nervously. Apparently they were beginning to question what exactly was going on. Finally. 

“At last, a proper congratulations are in order,” Erwin spoke from the center of the hall. With all their stepping forward, the boys were gathered around him close enough to hear him clearly at a normal volume. “Were this a tournament, this would be the final round. You are the true successes from the last week. This next week, we will dispel with the menial labor and begin more useful studies and testing. But, as your numbers have dropped so significantly, we will be merging squads. So, those under Seneschal Dita Ness, you will now join under Head Priest Mike Zacharius, and Grand Prince Levi’s squad, you will transfer into Court Physician Hanji Zoe’s care. You will have a moment to meet with your original squad leaders before joining your new groups. Once again, congratulations, and we expect that you will work just as hard this next week as last. Dismissed.”

Eren turned blindly in search of Levi, but the Prince already stood nearby, the other few boys left to their squad making their ways over. “You did it,” the Prince deadpanned, once the boys had all gathered around. “Now you must do it again. Hanji is a maniac, but I expect you all to follow their orders with obedience and respect. And don’t think that you can get away without bathing each night — I might not be your squad leader anymore, but don't think for a second I’m letting you pigs wallow in your own shit in _my_ house.” 

Eren felt a jolt go through him. This wasn't just any stuffy noble’s place, this was the _Grand Prince’s_ manor — _Levi’s_ manor. His _home_. Eren didn't know why that bit of information made him feel oddly flustered. 

“The next week will comprise of furthering your education,” Levi continued. “We’ve observed how you act on a regular basis, throughout the day, and now will give you the tools to learn proper decorum.”

“What, like table manners?” Eren couldn't help but interject. But he was genuinely curious.

“Among other things,” the Prince simply nodded with an uncharacteristic sigh, and didn't turn his head to meet Eren’s eyes. 

Eren frowned, nearly concerned at the lack of a reprimand. “And?” he pushed.

“And what, Jäger?” The Prince was still oddly removed. 

“What else does that even mean? How to hold a fork properly? That’s going to help us? How stupid, we know how to eat —“

“I’ve seen you ravage a chicken leg, brat, and I wouldn't call that horror ‘eating’,” Levi finally twisted to glare, albite weakly, at Eren directly. 

“Whatever,” Eren pulled a deliberately petulant look, unsure why he was goading the Prince. He only knew that he preferred Levi this way — his usual way — better. “How about something useful, like how to read?” 

“How to…” Levi trailed off, for once appearing to be at a loss for words. “You…are illiterate.” 

“You say that like it’s my fault,” Eren barked a laugh to cover his embarrassment. He had said that without much thought beyond that it might bring out Levi’s usual sarcasm. But this, this _pity_ was worse. It made Eren feel ashamed, even though it really wasn’t his fault. 

Cotidianum schools taught practical things like farming and plant identification, how to hunt and, at most, basic numbers and symbols. True, fluid reading was not just considered a waste of time and effort, but even if there was a use for it in day to day labors, there was nobody to teach it. Eren had never met a single Cotidianum, in all his years of traveling from village to village for various markets and fairs, who was genuinely literate. 

“Can any of you brats read?” Levi looked to the other handful of boys, all who shook their heads in shame. A pause then, before Levi turned to face the rest of the hall, “Oi! Any of you boys know how to read?” 

The other squads looked up in surprise, the boys sharing glances before shaking their heads no. 

“For fuck’s sake,” the Prince grumbled before raising his voice again. It wasn't a yell, but it was the loudest Eren had ever heard it. “Hey Grand Advisor, you think the fact that these kids don't know a from z might be maybe, kind of, sort of fucking important?”

“I - I did not realize,” Erwin had the good grace to look surprised as well as concerned. “We will include it in the week’s lessons, Grand Prince, we can find the time. Perhaps cut back on some hours of dance lessons.”He turned and motioned to Mike, clearly getting started on working out the logistics of adding this new subject, already. 

Levi turned back to his squad. “There you go, Jäger. Not only will you not have to spin around to shitty music like the nimrod you are, as much, but you’ll learn “something useful,” too. Happy?”

Eren felt his mouth move, but no sound came out.

“If I’d known all it took to shut you up was to give you reading lessons, I’d have sat you down with your abc’s myself, damn.”

“Th-thank you?” Eren finally managed to squeak out.

Levi rolled his eyes, “Yeah, fuck if I care. Go bother Hanji. Dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Akimbo" is one of my favorite words, and I have no idea why. 
> 
> Eren a.k.a. hotty wit a body
> 
> Levi a.k.a. hot and bothered 
> 
> I swear Mike isn't a creeper, he has his reasons. 
> 
> Can you feel the feels emerging? Can you??
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading, please give this fic some love!
> 
> x


	7. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren gets closer to two of the nobility, in two different ways, and is still an oblivious doofus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Friends!
> 
> Very little *actually* happens in this chapter, despite it being longer (by like a wee bit) than those previous, but that’s because my characters hijACKED me and I ended up writing something that I did not expect to, but that is rather GLORIOUS (imho).
> 
> ...If you thought *last* chapter had f~e~e~l~s…. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> x

“Buh-buh-ee-ah-n. Buheahn? Whu?”

“This is one of those strange vowel combinations — e and a together make a long _e_ sound.”

“So…bean.”

Hanji cackled their approval while Eren looked on blank faced.

“Oh, come on, it’s funny!”

“Is it?”

“Well _I_ certainly think so. I’m still not convinced that that isn't your actual name.”

“Hanji…”

“Okay, okay,” the head physician finally relented. “But, back to business, you are progressing phenomenally, Eren.”

“I can barely even read a sentence without help,” the young man grumbled, displeased. He hadn't realized that learning to read would be so difficult…

While he had quickly memorized the alphabet and the various sounds individual letters made, he was confused by the surplus of seemingly pointless rules. Why was nothing actually spelled how it sounded??

“Eren,” Hanji’s voice was fond in its exasperation, “it’s been two days. I don't think you realize just how much you’ve learned. It takes children _years_ to get to this point. Of all the boys here, you have gotten farthest in your lessons. It’s why we decided you would benefit from this additional one-on-one tutoring.”

“Armin just finished a book this morning. A _whole BOOK_!”

“Armin does not count; he is an outlier, and including him would distort the numbers. As things stand, you are top of the class, so to speak.”

Eren ran his hand through his hair and looked at the page in front of him in frustration, “I just…” he trailed off somewhat forlornly. 

“Just what?” Hanji prompted softly. 

“I never — cared — before. About reading. It was an unnecessary skill; I had no use for it, and I was fine with that. But now…it’s, it’s _embarrassing_. I feel humiliated, stupid even, and I’m angry for feeling that way. I shouldn’t feel ashamed, but I can’t help it, so I just want to learn, master the skill, and get rid of the feeling all together.”

“Oh, Eren,” Hanji sniffled, reaching out to grip Eren’s hand. “Of course you shouldn't feel ashamed. You had no control over where you were born and the circumstances you were raised in,” they echoed Eren’s own thoughts. “You are comparing yourself to the nobility — to me, even — people who have been privileged enough to receive the best of everything. 

You are smart and talented in your own right, even without having been gifted with a highbrow education, but now that you have been presented with the opportunity to learn more, you are thriving!” Eren knew they meant well with their words, so held back his slight wince. “You would not need to know what you are now learning if you had not been thrust into this situation. Not having these forms of knowledge does not make you lesser or stupider than those of us who do. It’s simply different. And there is nothing wrong with that.”

“But I _have_ been thrust into this situation. I will be navigating your world,” for the cotidianum and expolitum very much existed in two separate and distinct worlds, “and will be judged for my lack of knowledge. You might understand, to an extent, but very few others will. They will laugh at me and call me uneducated. They won’t care that I never had the opportunity to learn; they will not see how, even though I had no use for learning such things, it was innately unfair that the option was never even available to me in the first place. And even if they acknowledged that such schooling was unfairly impossible for me, they will not concede circumstance as you have — they will blame me, judge me, censure _me_. If they don’t hate me, they will praise me for doing so well, despite my ‘horrible’ upbringing, like a pet that’s successfully mastered a difficult trick. And I hate that. I _hate_ that. I hate them for their views, and I hate myself for caring.”

“I am sorry, Eren,” Hanji gripped his hand tighter. “I will never know how you feel, can only guess.” Eren appreciated that they did not foist pointless comforts his way, were not conceited enough to pretend they could empathize. “I will not say I wish you had been brought up differently, because that would be an insult, added education or no. And I now realize that praising you for doing your best with what you could is belittling, and apologize for my earlier attempts at reassuring you. I…do not really know what to say,” they admitted, looked at Eren with wide eyes, upset and troubled, but above all else desperate to help him in any way possible.

“You don't have to say anything,” Eren breathed out. “You mean well, and understand as well as you can, considering you did not go through the same experiences as I did. What you _can_ do is help me — just, continue to help me. As much as this entire ordeal raises conflicting emotions, I, I _want_ to learn. I _do_. I want this knowledge, I want to _know_. Just, promise you will continue to treat me as an equal, and teach me, Hanji. Just teach me. Please.”

Hanji brought both their hands around Eren’s, drawing his to their chest. Their glasses reflected the light sharply, and their eyes blazed ferociously, “I will, Eren, I promise. Anything you wish to know. You are made for greatness, I know it, and I will do everything within my power to help you achieve it.”

Eren grinned a little at the dramatic words. “Does this make us friends, then, Head Physician Hanji?”

“F-friends?” their mouth dropped open, the wild edge in their gaze shifting. “Really, Eren? Are we really?”

The brunette shuffled awkwardly in his seat. Hanji had always been informal with him, but maybe he’d crossed a line? “Well, uh, I mean, I should think so…right?”

“Eren!” Hanji sobbed, suddenly throwing themselves at the young man and knocking him onto the floor where they peppered his face with kisses. “That makes me so _happy_! Thank you!”

Eren endured the affection with a superficial grimace.

Now he had two friends. 

 

x

 

Hanji was true to their word. In between formal lessons on table manners and dance, peerage and elocution, how to dress, how to walk, and numerous other dull and seemingly pointless things, Eren could be found sitting next to Hanji, a stack of books nearby, as he attempted to absorb as much information as possible. 

While he still felt frustrated, Eren’s reading skills were progressing at an exponential rate. He could navigate a page of stuffy literature on his own by day three, and by day four, he could skim read that same page while still absorbing information. 

And the things he read about! Every waking moment not busy was spent devouring the books Hanji gave him, and they made sure to give Eren the most interesting books they could find. Books about oceans and deserts, plants and animals, lands and kingdoms he had never even heard of; history and politics (those he enjoyed slightly less, with their classist bias, but he still gleaned much); dragons and knights; art and music. Eren was learning to read, and as he learned to read, he learned about anything and everything else, and he loved it. He was not as smart as Armin, never would be, but he was coming to know so much more than he ever thought possible, and he genuinely enjoyed gaining this knew knowledge, simply for knowing’s sake. 

In addition to reading, Hanji had taken it upon themselves to give him extra tutoring on the other, official lessons, too. 

*  
“No, no, it’s a waltz, not a death march! Mendel’s Bones, at least _try_ to inject a little grace into your movements!”

*  
“No, not that fork. Not that fork, either. Or that one. Or — very funny. Stop pointing that at me and put the knife down.”  
*

“It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosA.”

“What.”

“Never mind, I thought you would get the reference. Anyway, try pronouncing the lords’ titles, again.”

*

With only three more days until the end of the week, Eren was missing the horse stalls. While he genuinely enjoyed reading (and maybe even dancing, a little, though he would never admit it), the other lessons seemed completely arbitrary and dull. Who cared what he ate a salad with? How tall he stood and low he bowed? 

Everything about these lessons simply worked to reaffirm Eren’s belief that the Expolitum were a supercilious and shallow lot, concerned with trivial, hollow things. There was no purpose to any of this, and it grated on him to have to devote time and attention to learning these things. Even mucking the stables had a more practical application than this shit. 

Still, despite his unhappiness, with Hanji’s extra support Eren was quick to learn. His days were spent bouncing from lesson to lesson, headed by various nobility, and his mornings and evenings passed with Hanji, Armin tagging along for additional support. The two boys had an unspoken pact that they would see this pageant out together. 

Though he resented the Expolitum and was incredibly fond of Armin, Eren often wondered what great things the small blonde might have accomplished if born into a higher station. He was brilliant, simply brilliant, and approached everything with a ferocious curiosity, his seemingly innocent enthusiasm belied by the streak of cunning that could sometimes be seen flashing in his eyes. Armin mastered every lesson and problem brought his way in next to no time at all. He was a visual contradiction of fierce genius encapsulated in round cheeks and a bubbly giggle. He was kind of scary, and Eren loved him for it. 

“Sorry!” the smaller of the two boys winced as he stepped on his partner’s toes yet again. 

For all his brilliance, though, a dancer Armin was _not_. Even Eren had mastered the steps of the various waltzes, but with this Armin still struggled. 

It was late at night on the sixth day, and all the other boys had long since gone to bed. Armin and Eren had snuck into the grand hall — its space necessary to accommodate the dance’s sweeping moves — with a purloined candle, where they currently had spent the last hour arm in arm, stepping and turning.

“Ugh!” Armin drew to a stop, pulling out of Eren’s arms. “It’s no use! It’s too fast, I can’t keep up with my little legs.” He wiggled one uselessly in the air as if to demonstrate. 

“You’re not even that much shorter than me, though,” Eren protested. “Besides, you’ve mastered everything else the nobles have thrown at us, you can master this, too.”

“That was all — book stuff!” Armin threw his hands up before squeezing his head between them. “Memorization and absorption of information. My brain can handle that, I’m smart. But this? _Dancing_?” His shoulders slumped, and his hands dropped back to his sides. “No matter how well I know the steps in here,” one hand raised to tap his temple before falling down again, “it just won’t translate to…here,” he raised his arms up half-heartedly to indicate his body in its entirety. 

“Armin,” Eren approached his friend, “we’ve only been at this for an hour.”

“But we’ve been doing lessons for days, now!”

“Maybe, but…did it ever occur to you that the reason you feel so discouraged is because, well, because you’ve never had to actually _try_ before?” he pressed hesitantly. 

Armin blinked up at the brunette.

“You’re right,” Eren continued, “you _are_ smart. You know everything we’ve been taught forwards and backwards, and you’ve learned it quickly and easily. This is the first time you’ve been told to learn something and struggled — you’ve never had that happen to you before, have you?” It wasn’t a question. “So it’s only natural that you would feel so disheartened. But, Armin, those of us who were _not_ blessed with your brains — we’re in the same boat! I only just got my dinner etiquette approved this morning, and the waltzes that you are claiming are impossible? I only just finished learning day before yesterday, and I know for a _fact_ that the majority of the other boys are still struggling, like you. You’re not failing, Armin, you’re just…still learning.”

A pause, and then, “Is…is this what it’s like to be normal?” Armin whispered, wide eyed and slightly horrified. 

Eren let out an expansive laugh, head thrown back, “If you mean not a prodigy like you, then, yes. This is what it’s like to be normal.”

Armin mustered up his own small smile. “How awful,” he teased, but Eren was pretty sure he was quite serious.

“Yes, I know. I wonder how I endure this mundane mind of mine all the time,” Eren’s chuckles broke back into full laughter. 

“Hush, you’re going to get us caught!” Armin reached out to cover Eren’s mouth with his hand, though his lips were pinched together to hold back giggles of his own. Eren’s laughter was contagious: full, high, and ringing, echoing through the hall as if trying to escape, in its delight. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the brunette sniggered behind the hand. “I’m good, now.”

Armin gave him a look that clearly transmitted his lack of belief in that statement, as Eren was still tittering occasionally, but he let go.

“Okay,” Eren finally stood tall and wiped at his eyes, misty with mirth. “From the top?”

“Yes.”

The two boys clasped hands, and Eren placed his other hand on Armin’s shoulder. For the sake of the lesson, he was dancing the woman’s part. 

“Bring your hand up further, right under my shoulder. Okay, now remember: slow, quick, quick,” Eren instructed before counting off the beat, “Aaand, one, two-three, one, two-three…” 

The boys began moving. 

Armin still tripped up occasionally, bringing the wrong foot forward or turning the wrong way, but the new look of determination on his face never wavered. “Good, good,” Eren reassured him, dropping the counting. “Left, right, turn, cross. Back, back, and cross. Good!” 

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Armin enthused, right before trying to turn the wrong way again and bonking his forehead on Eren’s chin. “Or not,” he grumbled, as they came to a halt and both took to rubbing their sore spots. “Maybe I need a break.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eren began before being cut off.

“What the shit is this?”

Both boys froze, and Eren felt his stomach drop out his butt. 

“G-Grand Prince Levi, h-highness, sir,” Armin stuttered, turning towards the newcomer. “W-w-we, that is to say, um, we-”

“I was helping him with his dancing,” Eren interjected with a cringe, saving his friend from himself. 

“That didn't look like dancing to me,” Levi arched a brow.

Eren spluttered uselessly, and Armin deflated pathetically, any confidence gained from the last half hour’s progress trounced by the royal’s words. 

“Show me,” Levi ordered, cutting off any response Eren might have eventually formulated once he got past his indignation. 

“Uhh,” Armin side-eyed Eren, “Highness?”

“Show me,” the royal simply repeated. 

Eren turned to face Armin, mouthing a bewildered ‘OH-kay,’ before reaching for the blonde. He could feel his friend shaking with nerves, so squeezed his hand and gave him an exaggeratedly roguish grin, which had the blonde rolling his eyes, but also shaking off some of his anxiety. 

“Ready?” Eren asked, and at Armin’s nod, counted off shortly before allowing himself to be led backwards into the waltz. 

Armin did decently, though his self-consciousness over being watched by the highest-ranking noble they “knew,” and royalty at that, had him reverting back to simple mistakes that Eren thought they had worked out. The brunette tried to help his friend by breathing instructions and reminders, lifting his arms when they drooped too low, but Armin was simply too nervous. After a while, they came to an awkward halt, turning towards the prince.

“I’m too small,” Armin blurted before Levi could comment on anything, reverting to his earlier concern, rushing on to elaborate, “to lead, that is. I can dance the woman’s part well enough, but I’m too short to lead, especially someone taller than me.” Armin twisted his hands in front of him. 

In response, Levi silently strode forward, placing himself in front of Armin. Eren’s eyes bugged when he realized that the blonde had a good inch on the prince. He’d always known the prince was little — that was his first impression of him, after all, paired with no small amount of glee — but since knowing Levi, his natural command and force of personality had quickly made Eren forget the height differential. 

“Too short?” the royal asked rather derisively before turning to Eren, next. “Watch,” he ordered over his shoulder to Armin, before grasping Eren’s nearest hand and pulling him forward. 

“Uh, I’m not sure, is this—“ Eren stammered, but quickly lost his voice as the prince pulled him closer. _His hands are soft_ , the vague thought flitted through his mind, but then they were moving. 

Levi’s touch was gentle but firm, and he led Eren through the dance’s steps unerringly, shifting into the turns and moving around Eren’s larger stride fluidly and gracefully. 

Eren was glad that this waltz called for the dancers to have their faces turned away from each other, because he would not have been able to handle locking eyes with Levi’s intense gaze while in such a strangely intimate position. As it was, Levi’s hand — dry and warm and, indeed, soft despite being calloused — clasped around his own, the other heavy below his shoulder; the sound of his even breathing; the masculine scent — juniper and bergamot, pepper and musk — that wrapped more strongly around Eren with each spin; all had the brunette swallowing reflexively and chewing his lower lip. 

With each count, Eren hoped he would relax into the movements, but instead he only grew more and more aware of the body moving so close to, and in synch, with his; the power and silk of it all. So despite that self-consciousness, or perhaps because of it, Eren was surprised to realize just how well the prince and he did indeed move together, their bodies easily, and immediately, harmonizing. There was no faltering, no awkward missteps or stuttering of rhythm — just seamlessly elegant motion as they glided back and forth through the hall.

He suppressed a yelp when things suddenly deviated from the norm, though, and, mid-step, he was being spun before immediately being returned to the basic steps. Eren broke form and whipped his eyes to Levi’s, who was already watching for a reaction, almost in challenge. Eren had stumbled slightly, not expecting to be spun or even knowing how to follow through with the move, as they had only been taught the basic three count in lessons. He would have been lying, though, had he said he didn't enjoy the sensation of twirling through the air so quickly — even if it did mean fully relying on Levi to lead him through the twirl and back into the basic steps. 

“Again?” he asked hesitantly, and swore that the corner of Levi’s mouth ticked up before the stomach swooping sensation of whirling whisked away the sight. Eren couldn't stop the giddy laugh that escaped him as he sped round, and he continued the dance with more vigor, relishing each time Levi released his shoulder to spin him by their securely connected hands. 

“Up,” Levi prompted after one such spin, and Eren had little time to be confused, because the royal was bringing their clasped hands low until Eren’s arm was straight, elbow locked, and then he was _lifting_ , and suddenly Eren was not only turning, but also airborne, and he let out a thrilled whoop before landing back into the dance. 

He opened his mouth to ask, but Levi beat him to it with an echoed, “Again?” the corner of his mouth ticking upwards once more. 

Eren nodded vigorously, mouth stretched into a fierce grin. It was like _flying_.

And so the dance continued, for just how long Eren was not sure: Levi’s hands holding him, guiding him; the imaginary melody playing in Eren’s mind building as they moved about the hall, from one end to the other, using all of the available space as they danced and danced; the basic steps peppered with exhilarating spins and lifts, Levi’s quietly strong and steady presence, and Eren’s happy laugh. 

Eventually, though, the dance had to come to an end. Eren, who had been expecting to simply step back after a final count and bow/curtsy, found himself caught off guard yet once again as he was first flung out, his and Levi’s clasped hands stretched between them, before being drawn back in on one spin, and then another, before being dipped backwards towards the floor.

They held the pose for a long moment, breaths quick from the exertion, gazes locked, Levi’s arms wrapped around Eren’s shoulders, Eren, in turn, clutching at Levis back, vaguely concerned he might fall backwards onto his head, but then quickly amending the worry — Levi would never drop him. He was too strong, too reliable — he’d just spent gods knew how long throwing Eren about the room as they’d danced, after all.

Eren stared up at Levi through wide eyes, as his thoughts caught up with him: Right. He’d just danced. With _Levi_. A _prince_. And he’d not only just danced with the _Grand Prince_ , but he’d also _enjoyed_ it. A _lot_. 

Levi, too, seemed to come to some kind of realization as his expression — uniquely open, eye’s bright and mouth relaxed — quickly smoothed back out into its usual ice, and he swiftly straightened, pulling Eren with him, before stepping away. Eren felt unexpectedly unbalanced, and wrapped his arms around his middle to counter the sensation. 

“Did you see?” Levi asked Armin, turning towards the blonde, and Eren jumped a bit, having forgotten his friend was even there.

Armin was watching the two, open mouthed and seemingly dumbfounded, and nodded rather disjointedly in response. 

“You can’t use your height as an excuse forever. You know the steps,” Levi told him, “stop thinking so hard. You’ll look constipated, and you’ll only get things wrong. Trust your body and relax into the beat.”

“Yes, sir,” Armin replied faintly. 

The prince nodded once before striding off towards the glass doors leading outside. “Go to bed. You won’t get much more done tonight, and you’ll need your rest for tomorrow.” 

“What about you?” some niggling sensation prompted Eren to call after him, arms still wrapped securely about himself, “Shouldn’t you get some sleep, too? Highness?”

Levi hesitated in his pace but then continued on. “Go to bed, Jäger,” he ordered without looking back, disappearing through the doors and into the night’s shadows.

“Yes, sir,” Eren spoke softly into the silence, arms tightening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi smells like Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue for Men because that shit is amazing and almost literally makes me drool
> 
> I realize it’s a bit of a stretch to have Eren learning to read so quickly, but I’m writing under the assumption that he has a basic grasp of most letters and some sounds, probably some important sight words (as mentioned previous chapter), so he’s not starting from zero, and he’s really rather clever. And if it’s still an unrealistically fast pace, oh well! Author’s rules! :D
> 
> Bless Hanji. But also, notice how Eren is kinda a hypocritical little shit, getting defensive about the Cotidianum, but then lumping the Expolitum into one disreputable lump. Lol to err is human, and all that jazz.  
> Also, I couldn't help the little HP reference, it just seemed to fit in too well
> 
> I based Levi and Eren’s dance on the Viennese Waltz. Everything I know about the viennese waltz is from wikipedia, this video (an instructional)  
> -[[youtube. com/watch?v=_EHrZ9TBiY0]],  
> as well as this video (a legit Viennese BALL full of the spins and lifts I (attempted) to describe)  
> -[[youtube. com/watch?v=tRTVoN95miM]]  
> SO, basically, I know Nothing. Correct me if you know Something. 
> 
> Also: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
> (that’s me, screaming, because FEELS. And the only one who probably actually realizes what the fuck is going on is Armin (and you readers) BLESS)
> 
> ALSO, please let me know if the pacing seems too fast/slow? I’m trying to lay groundwork, which seems slow, while also attempting to establish the beginning of a relationship, which might seem too fast?  
> Like, as long as I’m not forcing the dorks into insta-love, and am just playing the ‘oblivious idiots’ card real close, I’m good, so pls let me know what you think, in the comments. Or just join me in my senseless screaming (AHHHH).
> 
> Either way, thank you so much for reading, and for any and all feedback!
> 
> xo


	8. Let Me See You One, Two Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren is told to be himself and follows that advice a little bit too well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting, but work was absolutely hectic this past week, and I did not have nearly enough time to write! In penance, I began adding to this chapter when I came home from work last night at 1 am, and it is now 9 in the morning and I have not slept a wink, but at least I have this nice, long (kinda) chappie to make up for the extra week of wait!
> 
> There’s some potentially triggery stuff in here, with regards to some really shitty name-calling, a fight scene, and a description of a panic attack. Any questions or concerns on content etc pls don't hesitate to either drop me a q in the comments, or hmu on tumblr @ kalipeda :)
> 
> I think for future chapters, I will leave details in the end notes, and you can skip to those, if you are worried. That way nothing is given away/revealed before the chapter, but you will still have the warning, if necessary. 
> 
> As always, un-betad and, this week, bonus round sleep deprived! Woo! Any awful mistakes feel free to yell at me.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading! I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments! 
> 
> x

“Stop.”

“I’m not doing any-“

“You’re staring. I can feel it.”

Eren lay in bed wide eyed, gazing up at the ceiling — or at least he would have been, had there been any light to see by. As it was, he could still feel Armin’s gaze boring into the side of his face, from the bunk next to his.

They lay in silence a moment, eyes locked in their respective places. 

“It’s just -“

“Ughh, Armin,” Eren huffed, turning on his side to face away from his friend. 

“I’m sorry!” the blonde whispered fiercely, “but what the _hell_ was that?!”

Eren sighed. “A dance, Armin. Weren’t you watching?”

“That was way more than just a dance, Eren.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t be silly, we both know that’s impossible. Besides, if anyone is being stupid here it’s you.”

“Please just stop,” Eren moaned, sitting up partially to pick up his pillow before flopping back down and using it to sandwich his head against the mattress in an attempt to block out Armin’s voice. 

What Armin was implying was a dangerous path of thought to venture down. 

The dance with Levi had been…lovely. Truly lovely. And fun. And exhilarating. And if Eren did not cut his mind off from thinking about the feel of warm hands and strong arms, he would deserve any and all of Sir Walling’s hateful antagonizing. 

Eren was at the estate to be sold off to the nobility, not to moon over royalty. Any pining thoughts would only come at the young man’s own expense, and he did not much feel like making a fool of himself. Entertaining thoughts about Levi was just plain stupid, and would go unrequited, for a myriad of obvious reasons, the least of which was that he was Cotidianum and Levi was a _prince_ , and the fact that Eren was even having to try and rationalize all of these facts to himself in the first place meant that he had already taken this too far. The dance had meant nothing, especially not to Levi — as soon as he remembered who he was dancing with, he’d escaped the hall as quickly as possible and dismissed them. Not only that, but Eren didn’t even like Levi that way, the dance had just riled him up. Plus, Levi was Expolitum, and Eren had to hate him for that on principle alone, even if he wasn’t actually that bad, especially when compared to his peers…aaand Eren was rationalizing again. 

_Enough_ he admonished himself silently and sat up, pillow falling into his lap.

“It was a dream,” he spoke softly.

“Hm?” Armin was still wide awake, but he hummed quietly, sensing some kind of internal decision on Eren’s part, no doubt. 

“It was a dream,” Eren repeated. “Nothing more than a lovely dream, and now it’s time to wake up.”

“Oh, Eren,” Armin sighed sadly. 

“You know it’s true, Armin, don’t sound so disappointed.”

“I just…”

“You just what?”

“I don’t know. That’s, well that _is_ the dream, isn't it? To be swept off your feet by a prince and live happily ever after? I just, I wanted one of us to get that happy ending, at least, I guess.”

A pause. “For a smart person you sure are dumb, sometimes.”

Armin let out an amused huff in partial acquiescence.

Eren lay down on his back once more, hands tucked behind his head, and resumed his sightless vigil. Another moment passed in comfortable silence.

“Hell of a dream, though, huh?” Armin finally asked wistfully.

Eren didn't hold back his smile, let Armin hear it in his voice. “Yeah. _Hell_ of a dream.”

x

“Wakey, wakeeey!” Hanji crashed into the dorm room singing. Eren, now somewhat used to the physician’s antics as a squad leader, stretched self-indulgently before knuckling sleep-dust out of his eyes.

“Morning,” he yawned their way as they breezed by, watching as they stopped by the bed of a still sleeping boy and gripped his blankets before giving a vicious tug so that both boy and blankets landed on the floor in a startled heap.

“Morning, friend!” they beamed at Eren before giving the blankets another shake with an “Oh no you don’t!” waking up the boy who had already begun to doze off again curled up on the floor. 

Once everyone was suitably cognizant, Hanji hopped up to stand on Eren’s bed, hand on his head for added balance. “Okay! Last day, kiddos! Tonight’s the big shindig, so prepare to spend the day being pampered and primped until you are shiny, sparkly creatures!”

The boys all looked at them dubiously, their excited tone slightly belied by their strange choice of words.

“That’s a good thing!” they tried to reassure before waving their hand in a dismissive manner, bouncing once and jostling Eren, who braced himself with a grip on their robe swathed knee. “Well, anyway, you should all go get breakfast. Vizier Erwin will give you further instructions, then.” 

The boys began making their way out the door (the remnants of Levi’s squad, still obediently following the prince’s strict rules on cleanliness, having dressed while the physician spoke), and Hanji jumped once more before pulling up their legs and landing on their bottom, this time nearly throwing Eren off the bed. They steadied him by reaching out to grip his shoulder, gave a considering hum, and then abruptly pushed him. He let out an undignified yelp and grasped at the sheets helplessly as he tumbled from the bed naked (Eren was _also_ still obediently following the prince’s strict rules on cleanliness), managing to pull enough sheet with him to cover up his private bits. Hanji leaned forward eagerly, but scowled when they saw that their ploy had not been successful. 

“Just once, Eren!” they pouted.

Eren, for his part, simply rolled his eyes and carefully pulled himself to his feet. He pulled at the sheets, trying to dislodge Hanji enough that he might wrap them around his middle, but the stubborn physician refused to budge, a gloating smirk on their face. Eren rolled his eyes again before stretching for his clothing, which he barely managed to snag with the tips of his fingers from where they lay over the foot of the bed. He sat back on the floor, under his meager corner of sheet, and proceeded to dress.

“So, how do you feel about tonight?” Hanji asked, shamelessly observing Eren robe.

“Well, I have no idea what to even expect, so I can’t rightly say.”

“You seem to have a general idea,” Hanji hedged, glancing over at Armin who was waiting close by. Eren and Armin had made no attempt at hiding their suspicions from Hanji, regarding what the ‘census’ really was, and Hanji, in turn, had made no move to dissuade them from said suspicions, effectively validating them through their silence. 

“Yes, yes, we know the general fundamentals,” Eren popped up, now dressed, to sit on the edge of his bed, “that is to say, we know the ‘why’… or maybe the ‘what’?” he frowned a moment, sidetracked, gaze somewhere off in the middle distance.

Armin rolled his eyes and stepped forward, “Regardless — whether ‘why’ or ‘what,’ that which we still don't know is the _‘how_.’”

Eren’s focus latched back into place, and he snapped his fingers once before pointing at Armin while nodding his head, “Exactly. The ‘how.’”

As if operating on a previously agreed upon prompt, the two boys turned to Hanji as one and proceeded to try and make themselves look as pathetic as possible. 

Hanji looked from one boy to the other and quickly stood, hands help up with palms forward as if to ward off some kind of predator. “Now, now, no need to resort to such dirty tactics,” they began edging away. “Honestly, it’s like someone kicked your dog - Like _I_ kicked your dog. I mean, are - Eren, are those real tears? Good gods, now that’s just cheating.”

“Just a hint, Hanji, just so we don’t go into this completely blind,” Eren sniffled through his thespian tears. 

“Eren, I’m really not supposed to tell you,” the physician twisted their hands nervously together. 

“Why? We can’t at least get a fighting chance at not failing spectacularly at an auction we are being forced into?” Eren’s tears quickly dried, teeth clenched. 

“Ohh,” Hanji chewed their lip, obviously torn. For all that they understood Eren and did their best to act in a fair and equal manner, despite station and rank, they still felt duty bound to their vocation. “You’re right, Eren, of course you’re right. It’s just - I swore an oath, you understand? To Crown and Kingdom. And this whole stupid thing falls under that.”

Eren’s shoulders drooped. Hanji had already done so much to help him, going above and beyond what he would have ever expected from anyone. He did not want to push them beyond their limits. 

“I understand,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”

“You’re not - that’s not - _Eren_ ,” they spluttered, sounding exasperated, before marching forward and grabbing him by the shoulders. “You’re not putting me in an awkward anything, especially when _you_ are being _sold_.” All three winced at those words, at the stark awful reality of what was actually going to happen that night. Eren quickly pushed down the fluttering panic that tried to rise from his throat as a scream. “I can’t say much, I literally can’t, you don’t understand, I wish you did, but I can’t explain _that_ either, but I will say this: just be yourself.”

Eren, who had spent the last two weeks learning to be anything _but_ himself opened his mouth to protest. 

“I mean it, Eren,” Hanji cut him off. “I said that you were special the first moment we met, and I was telling the truth.” Their gaze flit about his face from feature to feature, and their eyes softened as they tucked an unruly strand of hair back behind his ear. “Remember which fork is for a salad, and who leads in a waltz, but forget all of the other bullshit. Be. Your. Self.”

“Ookay?” Eren’s eyes darted to Armin who stood behind Hanji and to the side, pert nose scrunched up in consternation. 

“You, too, Armin.” Hanji twisted, eyes fierce, “Be yourself!”

“Okay!” he yelped, trying to smooth his expression of disbelief and not quite succeeding. 

“Right,” Hanji nodded once before standing. “You’ll be fine,” they reassured, striding towards the door and pulling it open. “Just remember,” they called from the hall, right as the door began to swing back shut, “Be your fucking selves!” 

Eren and Armin stared after them in baffled silence, the closed door doing nothing to help their confused thoughts. 

“Eren?” Armin tentatively began before simply sighing with a frown.

Another moment of bewildered quiet. 

“Whelp, breakfast?” Eren stood, clapping his hands together briskly. 

“Er, sure. Might as well get that over with.”

x

The mess hall was disconcertingly quiet as the remaining boys slowly forced down food. After the last week’s lessons, the others had finally come to the vague realization that something was not right, though none, as far as Eren was aware, were as informed as he and Armin. He both pitied and envied them their ignorance; where before he had been angry for what he perceived as naive stupidity, now he was just glad on their behalf: they had had one more week minus the crushing anger and terror that he and Armin had been wrestling with on a regular basis. Though, he had to acknowledge, it would probably make everything that much worse, once evening and the surprise of its events came along… No which way about this was a mercy, and that was a true indication of how awful it all was. 

Eren’s thoughts were cut off as someone tripped him while he and Armin made their way towards their table. 

“Whore,” a boy a few inches shorter than him hissed.

Eren turned to the other — Tim? Tom? He was in their squad, that much Eren knew — eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kevin taunted, turning in his seat to face Eren better, “Don’t think we haven't noticed.”

“Noticed what?” Eren tilted his head, oddly curious despite himself. 

“The way you throw yourself at that…that freak!” Brian flung his words, voice growing steadily louder. “Hoping you can get more attention from the nobles, warming that thing’s bed? Huh? Think you’re better than the rest of us? How can you be so disgusting, stooping to such a low level to try and advance yourself? Making a spectacle like you did this morning.”

As furious as Marvin’s hateful words about Hanji made him feel, the rest of his statement had Eren spluttering out a laugh. “The fuck?” he snorted, turning towards Armin with a look that asked if he was hearing the same things Eren was. Armin shook his head in resignation, and simply sat there at the table next to Carl, settling in for the long haul, and began eating his breakfast casually. 

“You heard me!” Luke repeated. “You’re that thing’s slut.”

“And you, Jimothy, are an idiot,” Eren pressed his lips into a thin, patronizing smile. 

“I’m Sebastian,” Gerard growled.

“And I don’t care,” Eren waved a hand in the air. “Are you finished, now, George?”

Jeff looked to his table mates for support before standing and taking a step towards Eren. Armin sighed into his eggs and shook his head. “No,” Jimmy spat, “And you know what?”

“What, Jake?” Eren raised an eyebrow.

“The rest of us don’t think it’s fair how you’re sleeping your way to the top, either. The way we see it, it’s only fair that we even the playing field.”

“Oh?” Eren hummed, positive that the the moron didn’t even know what Eren was ‘sleeping his way to the top of’ anyway, and took advantage of the moment to take a bite from his own tray.

John’s face grew red and he closed the small distance to smack the tray out of Eren’s hands. What little sound there was in the hall died instantly as everyone’s attention snapped to the confrontation.

Eren, fork halfway to his mouth, calmly took his bite of food before sighing heavily, looking down at the tray and its spilled contents. “Now see, that was just rude, Bob.”

“My name is _Sebastian_ ,” the shorter snarled, fisting his hand in the front of Eren’s shirt, “and that’s about to be the least of your worries, freak-fucker.” Connor drew his free arm back and threw it forward in a punch, but Eren caught it easily in one hand. Mark blinked in stunned confusion.

“Here’s the thing, _Chris_ ,” Eren grinned pleasantly, while Armin mouthed an ‘oh boy’ and quickly picked up his tray before moving a table over, where he continued to eat and watch the unfolding show. “That ‘freak’ you keep talking about is my _friend_ , and they are a better person than you will ever hope to be; I’m not sleeping with them, but even if I was, it would still be better sex than what your pitiful brain imagines when you’re pathetically fisting yourself at night — yeah, we can hear you, we’re in the same godsdamned room, you idiot — and lastly,” the brunette spoke, grin turned sharp with too many teeth, “you’re not going to be evening-out any playing fields throwing punches like that: your thumbs tucked, all you’ll do is break it. Here, let me show you.” And with that, Eren attacked. 

Grin cracking into something altogether vicious, Eren’s knuckles collided with the other boy’s teeth, knocking some loose, sending _Sebastian_ flying onto the table Armin had just vacated, other boys’ plates flying.

Sebastian’s friends looked at their friend, laid out on his back and groaning, before jumping to his belated defense, shoving back chairs to stand around Eren in a loose circle. 

“You’re going to pay for that, asshole,” a boy closer to Eren’s height spoke darkly. 

Eren, who had been fighting his own hot-headed nature the last two weeks, who had been enduring constant low-level harassment from both his peers _and_ his ‘betters;’ Eren who had always been one to charge first and ask questions later, lifted his hand, knuckles bloody, to comb through his hair, roughly pushing it back from his face, and laughed; head thrown back, fingers still tangled in his hair, Eren laughed long and hearty, before bringing his attention back to Sebastian’s friend with a head shake. “Oh, you poor kid,” he pretended to wipe a tear of laughter away. “I really, truly, doubt that.”

The boys charged.

At first, they attempted to reach him all at the same time, but as it quickly became apparent that that was impossible, they broke off into groups of two and three, coming at Eren in tag teams. 

Eren’s grin never wavered. 

For the first time in two weeks, Eren felt in his element, and damn the consequences, as his bloodlust rose, though it was hardly a fair match, even against so many. 

Eren had never had formal training in any type of combat, but he had grown up with his mouth, which always got him into trouble. As a result, he learned at a young age that only two options existed for him: to either win his fights or nurse his wounds. After the second broken bone, he decided he liked the first option better. 

Taking to the streets of the neighboring town, slightly larger and barely more urbanized, he had fallen in with what passed for gangs there, much to his mother’s horror. What the gangs really amounted to was groups of half-feral children duking it out in the streets and squabbling over street corners, but they payed for their paltry turf wars in real blood and sweat. In his time there, Eren had learned how to read a person before they even moved; to fight fast, to fight dirty, and to use everything and anything readily available as a weapon. He realized eventually that he wouldn’t make it to 17 if he continued that life, though, and so had returned to his mother, very much the prodigal son, whom he had promised to never leave again. A promise which he had been forced to break, when he was dragged to the manor. 

The boys charging Eren now were simple farmers, but they were aiming to do real hurt to Eren, and while as Cotidianum they were his people, his tolerance had come to a fissuring end, his anger and indignation boiling over into a fury he had no control over as his street fighting days pushed forward and took over his movements.

Within moments two boys lay stunned at his feet, one with an arm dislocated, another clutching his throat and gasping. A third sprinted at Eren, yelling unintelligibly, arm swinging wide. Eren rolled his eyes at the wildly broadcasted move which left his opponent wide open and ducked low to land a punch right in the boy’s gut. He summarily joined his companions on the floor.  
The next boy Eren took down with an elbow to the jaw, receiving a punch to his own lip in the process, which only had his adrenaline pumping harder. The excitement made it hard to focus, and two boys managed to wrestle him to the ground with a fist to his cheek and a hand twisted in his hair. While one of the boys straddled his chest, preparing to reign down more punches to his face, Eren managed to bring up a leg and catch the hair puller in the inner thigh with a vicious kick, the sensitive area dropping the boy to his knees. 

“You’re lucky,” Eren gritted, bringing his forearms up to block the boy on his chest’s fists from making contact, “that I decided to spare your balls.” 

Eren bucked his hips and twisted, managing to dislodge the straddler, kneeing him in the kidney as he quickly rose to his feet, right in time to duck under another boy’s flying fist. Eren trotted back a few paces, eyes locked on this newest opponent. With a few inches on Eren, he was the first of the pack who seemed to have some general idea of what he was doing, taking the time to size Eren up rather than charge in bullheaded. Eren grinned, bouncing on his toes, chin tucked and fists up. 

“Well?” he challenged, voice almost flirtatious. That, finally, got the other moving. 

The taller rushed forward, and Eren allowed his first hit to land, though he turned into it so that it was little more than a glance. The kid had decent power, but he was leading too obviously, leaving his side open. Eren danced forward, letting out an experimental jab, which the the boy barely managed to clumsily knock away. Boring. Eren frowned in disappointment and jabbed again, fainting right, and as the boy went to block, quickly surged forward with his cross to clip the boy hard in the sternum on his open side. The boy doubled over as the wind was knocked from him, and Eren waisted no time stepping in close and snapping out two more quick punches to his ribs. The boy joined his friends on the floor. 

Eren turned to where the last few boys stood, previous bravado lost. “What, nobody else going to make me _pay?_ ” Eren’s voice crackled dangerously, “nobody going to beat my imagined promiscuous tendencies out of me? Put me back in my place?” He took a few menacing steps forward, a large part of him hoping that the boys, shifting nervously from foot to foot, could be goaded into fighting — for a given value of a fight, that is. “No?” he continued to push forward, “Nobody? I thought you all were going to teach me a lesson? Come on, boys, I really wanted to learn. You have no idea how much I’ve recently been turned onto learning. In fact, Hanji has been helping we with that.” The boys tried to scatter, but Eren snagged one by the collar before he could escape. “You know. Hanji? The freak I’ve been whoring myself out to, according to you lot?” Seeing red, Eren drew his arm back to a throw a fist once more, but was stopped.

“Enough,” came the quiet command, the speaker’s grip a band of iron around Eren’s wrist.

“Let me go,” Eren, lost to his bloodlust, growled, spittle flicking.

The grip on his wrist tightened and then pulled, and before Eren could bat an eye he was on his back, a knee digging into his chest, a hand at his throat, loose but still threatening. “I said enough, Jäger,” Levi demanded, the only sign of some kind of emotion the tightness behind his eyes, locked on Eren’s own. 

Eren blinked up at the prince, winded. As his breath came back to him in wheezing gulps, Levi turned his gaze up. “Hanji, Mike, get these boys out of here and taken care of. Quickly. They don’t seem to have taken on any obvious damage, except for the kid missing some teeth, so they should be fine enough for tonight if looked to in time.” Eren was slowly coming back to himself, taking in the groaning bodies laid out around him. As his awareness came back, his wheezing began to transform into strained breaths of another kind. 

“What about Eren?” came Hanji’s quiet voice.

“I’ll handle Jäger,” was Levi’s cool reply. He transferred his grip on Eren’s throat to his shoulders, standing and bringing Eren up with him. “Let’s go,” he spoke evenly, tugging Eren forward by the wrist. 

Eren, for his part, was steadily sinking into a state of unmitigated panic. His breath was coming faster, and the faster it came, the less he felt like he was breathing, as his heart went into double time and his stomach roiled. This was it, he thought, he had finally done it, crossed a boundary and stepped over a line. Tonight was the culling’s finale, and he had risked damaging the stock before it could even make the stage. Who knew what punishment Levi was leading him to. 

“I, I think I’m going to be sick,” Eren managed between gasps. 

At some point after they had left the hall, Levi had wrapped an arm around Eren’s waist, carrying most of the younger’s weight. He now shook Eren, not unkindly, though his words were less than sympathetic, “You get one drop of vomit on me and you’re dead, you hear me?”

Eren, who was already cycling through terror laden thoughts centering on his impending punishment, only whimpered weakly, his breaths managing to come even more fiercely.

“Eren. Oi, Eren,” Levi’s voice seemed to come from a distance as spots began to disrupt Eren’s vision. “Shit,” he heard Levi hiss, and then everything went dark. 

x

When Eren came to, he was in an unfamiliar room. For a moment he lay in blissful ignorance, taking in the heavy desk and rows of bookshelves, before the morning’s event came rushing back to him and he sat up with a gasp. 

“Morning, sunshine,” came Levi’s dry voice from somewhere to the side, but Eren kept his eyes fixed on a hole in his pants where his knobby knee poked through. He’d managed to get the scrape during the fight, though he couldn't recall when. 

“What the fuck was that, back there?” Levi eventually asked into the straining silence. 

“I was being myself?” Eren cringed, thinking back on Hanji’s earlier advice. 

“What the shit is that supposed to mean?”

“I-“ Eren swallowed, thick, before getting up the nerve to swing his feet off of the plush divan he was reclined on and face Levi straight on. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes cast down, cheeks hot with embarrassment, palms clammy with fear. 

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you sorry, dumbass,” Eren could _hear_ the eye-roll. 

“I, I hurt all those boys.”

“Are you really sorry for that?”

“Well, I mean, sorta -“

Levi cut him off, “What compelled you to fight them?”

“They were saying things.”

“About you?”

Eren hesitated. “Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

More quietly, “Yes.”

“What where they saying?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it,” Eren finally lifted his eyes to Levi’s, blue-greens fierce. 

Levi looked at him consideringly for a moment. “Are you sorry you defended Hanji?” 

“No.”

“So then what are you really sorry for?”

Eren’s gaze petered to the side, before he trained it back on the prince. “I’m sorry I lost control and tried to attack someone who didn’t want to fight back, who had already given up.”

Levi nodded once and sat back in the armchair he occupied, set between two bookshelves. “Where did you learn to fight?”

“The streets.”

“It shows.”

Eren grew defensive, not quite snapping, but close, “Who cares? It’s saved my neck more than once, even if it isn’t formally learned.”

“I never said it was a bad thing.” Levi arched a single brow.

“Oh.”

Levi took a deep breath, one that Eren almost wanted to call a sigh, before standing smoothly. “Report to the grand hall, everyone is assembled there for the day’s preparations.”

“Wait, but what about my punishment?” Eren asked, confused, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Why was he so stupid? If Levi had forgotten, Eren should have made sure it stayed that way, not gone ahead and reminded him.

“What punishment?”

“Well, er, for…” Eren trailed off, not sure how to phrase his actions without incriminating himself further. How did one phrase ‘beating people up’ without making it sound quite so…terrible?

“Kicking the shit out of a a bunch ignorant assholes who had it coming?” Levi supplied.

Eren supposed that worked. “Um, well, yes. That.”

“The rest of the day will be punishment enough, Jäger,” Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t go looking for trouble when you don’t need to.”

The panic from before threatened to bubble up behind Eren’s teeth once again, but he swallowed it down. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, standing, making his way towards the door. 

Levi moved to sit behind the desk — this must be his office, Eren belatedly realized — as the brunette moved into the hall. He couldn't help the bit of tension that left him with the relief that he wouldn’t be getting more problems shoved his way, despite the fight. 

“Oh, and Jäger?” 

Eren stopped with his hand on the knob, “Yes sir?”

“In the future? Maybe try ‘being yourself’ a little bit less.”

Eren shot a glare over his shoulder, where Levi was looking on placidly, before truly pushing his luck and closing the door behind him with a much harder push than what was necessary. As the satisfyingly hard thud of wood hitting wood echoed down the hall, Eren tucked his hands into his pockets and scuffed his foot on the floor, looking around to orient himself before aiming in what he hoped was the right direction towards the hall. 

“ _Asshole_ ,” he muttered under his breath, though a corner of his lip ticked up suspiciously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all are just waiting for more Eren and Levi interactions, they are coming, I promise!
> 
> In the meantime, I really adore the Hanji-Eren friendship. I hope you do, too. And I felt terrible writing those insults aimed their way *cries* (also, I hope you caught the bit of info they revealed in their exchange with Eren, which points to what will become larger issues later on in the fic, *hint*hint*)
> 
> Jimothy is my absolute favorite bland “man name.”
> 
> I know nothing about fighting, and used this website for most of my references. idk.  
> lifehacker. com. au/2016/02/how-to-throw-a-punch-correctly/
> 
> I hope the ‘street fighter Eren’ bit I kinda just tossed in there isn't too corny/dumb/inconsistent. Oh well. *shrugs*
> 
> Levi is such a sucker letting Eren off so easy lolol ohhh boy. Silly, oblivious dummies. I love them. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!
> 
> xo


	9. I Think Your Bones are Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren undergoes a transformation  
> the boys learn why they are really at the manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fyi, in case you did not know this, adulting sucks. 10/10 would not recommend. No refunds and does not allow for loserz to spend all their time writing dumb boys falling in love. Terrible. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and please let me know what you think! I received some AMAZING comments last week that just totally floored me, and which I will respond to in the next few days. I seriously appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to let me know what you think in the comments, and it is such a phenomenal motivation. You are all angels and I love you. Thank you. 
> 
> x
> 
> As usual, un-betad and posted with minimum sleep, so apologies for typos etc. lmao whoops

ONE nice thing, Eren had to admit, about beating a couple of boys into the ground was the equally nice berth of space the other young men were giving him, now. The only things that made it through the sudden personal bubble of space were token glares which, shaky as they were, were quickly dropped as soon as Eren made eye contact. 

Armin kept looking at him with a cocktail of emotions. Exasperation, certainly, but also no small amount of pride and, under those, equal measures contemplation and smugness, for which Eren could not account. 

"Something you want to say?" Eren finally asked his friend. They stood on small stools, arms spread, as a mouse of a man scurried about them with a measuring tape, calling out numbers which a squat old maid then wrote down. Eren had seen a large pile of clothing in a corner of the hall, and assumed those outfits were going to be quickly altered down to suit each boy. He shook his head at the absurdity in that, the sheer amount of effort being forced into such a tiny time span. 

"Just that I both am and am not surprised,” Armin answered around a wince as the mouse took the length of his inseam. 

"That I snapped like that?" 

“Hm? Oh, no. I knew that was coming. Those asses deserved it. I meant about getting off scot-free." 

Eren shook his head from side to side, muddling it over, until a hand, surprisingly firm for belonging to a mouse, put an end to that disruption of movement. "Sorry," he mumbled to the tailor before returning his attention to Armin. "I thought I was done for," he admitted. Armin hummed his less than reassuring agreement. "Maybe they have a quota, and they couldn’t afford to get rid of me? Especially with some of those other boys out of commission.” Eren thought specifically of Sebastian and his missing teeth. Eren’s own smile was broad and sunny at the memory. 

"Maybe," Armin hummed once more, and Eren’s smile became a pursing of lips. 

“Levi —“ the mouse looked up at Eren with a gasp, and the old maid looked positively scandalized at the familiarity Eren used. “Pardon,” he hurried on, “that is, the Grand Prince,” both tailors hmphd in mild condemnation but continued on with their process, “he said that I would be miserable enough, come tonight. And with everything that’s going on…what would be the use in punishing me, I guess.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Armin admitted. 

“What the hell were you thinking, then?” 

“Oh, this and that.”

“This and that my — ow!” Eren glared down at the mouse who had just jabbed him with a pin. Based on the little man’s pointed sniff, it hadn’t been an accident, either. 

Armin sniggered, “Maybe you should watch your language.”

“Maybe you should kiss my — OW! Alright! I get it! Gods, are we done yet?” Eren folded his arms defiantly. 

After being released from the tailor and his wandering pins, Armin and Eren were led to the baths. This time, however, there were servants present. Eren exchanged a leery glance with Armin, before the two boys, along with others from their squad, were seized, forcibly undressed, and then unceremoniously dunked into the freezing cold tubs of water. 

Amidst squawks of protestation, Eren was brutally scrubbed with rough brushes, his hair doused with some potion reeking strongly of cinnamon and some kind of incense, before that too was viciously scoured away. The servants dragged Eren and his companions from the tubs, the boys all shivering and awkwardly hunched to retain as much dignity as possible in their naked states. Dignity which was all too quickly lost to shrieking and, in some cases, tears. 

The servants produced warm, clay vats containing some kind of viscous substance. Applied first to one of his legs, Eren enjoyed the strange sensation and heat, observing in fascination as a strip of cloth was then placed over the wide swath. Eren’s quaint interest morphed into horror, though, after one edge of the cloth was grasped firmly and _ripped_ , taking an entire leg’s worth of hair with it. 

Servants held boys down as they attacked every patch of hair from chin to toe with their vats, and Eren was soon a pained and sensitive mass of skin, feeling more exposed than before without all of his body hair. 

“What the fuck?” He whimpered to Armin, who looked as equally shell-shocked. “I mean, what in the actual fuck? They even did my asshole!” he spoke the last part in a furious whisper. 

Armin appeared to have gone catatonic.

After being returned to a smooth, baby-skinned state, the boys were liberally rubbed down with sweet smelling oils, a process which helped to soothe away the irritation, and then given robes of plain cloth. They were led back to their dorm where they then waited in line to be sat at one of three chairs where barbers worked carefully trimming and coifing what remaining hair they had, on scalp and face — though only one or two boys could be said to have actual facial hair. Eren himself could barely manage a wispy goatee that, after a week’s growth, had only led to his mother scolding him to wash his face better. 

Eren asked that the barber leave his hair longer, and was surprised when he complied, leaving it rather shaggy, only snipping off the deadened ends and applying some kind of product that made it lay flat and shine. Armin, too timid to speak up, let his barber do whatever he saw fit, and the young blonde ended up with an unfortunately bowl shaped ‘do. Eren tried to reassure his friend that it wasn't _that_ bad, but his efforts were less than convincing, punctuated as they were by poorly muffled snorts of near hysterical laughter. 

From the dorm, the boys were led to the dining hall which had been transformed into what Eren imagined the backstage of an opera-house might look. Mirrors had been scattered throughout, tables covered with small pots and tins containing a rainbow of powders and salves, and folding screens printed with images of nature stood here and there. Racks of clothes lined one wall, each outfit pinned with a labeled tag, an accompanying pair of shoes tucked below it. Eren couldn’t remember having ever worn shoes. Even in winter, he had just wrapped cloth and leather around his feet. 

Eren was led to a mirror where another servant quickly got to work, applying the powders and salves to Eren’s face, chatting amicably all the while. Eren watched his reflection in consternation as he was made up like a girl. First, his eyes were rimmed in a smoky colored kohl, his lashes brushed with the same kohl mixed with a small amount of water. Next, his lips and cheeks were lightly rouged. Lastly, his cheek, jaw, and brow bones were brushed with a shimmering, gold powder. The process took much longer than he would have expected, and the end results were…startling. 

The dark kohl made his eyes positively glow in contrast, while his eyelashes seemed to rest on his cheeks every time he blinked. His lips looked plump and freshly bitten, while the blush to his cheeks emphasized his youth and made it seem like he had just undertaken some kind of invigorating activity. He shied away from thoughts of what kinds of “activities” those might entail. The gold powder brought even more warmth to Eren’s already tan skin, as well as a kind of incandescence, as if he was lit up from within. He wanted to hate it for the simple fact that men were not meant to be made up like that, but he couldn't help but be awed by the final results. 

“Wow,” he said faintly.

“I know what I’m doing,” the servant winked. “It helps that you are already beautiful, though, of course. I barely had to do anything, really. You’re going to cause a fight.”

“Thanks,” Eren took the compliment, despite its implications, as he was then pointed towards the clothing racks. It seemed that, as the evening drew closer, those who were ‘in the know’ were bothering less and less with keeping things secret. 

“Last name,” a portly fellow spoke in a business-like manner.

“Jäger.”

“Jä- Jäger?” the man did a double take. 

“Yes?”

The man made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “huh,” before tapping his way down the tags to the correct set of clothes. “Here we are! We were told that yours had to be this color and cut, specifically. I understand, now, what with the,” and he gestured at his own face vaguely in a circular motion.

“Er, okay?”

“Yes, well, go ahead behind that screen, there, and put it on,” the man thrust the garment into Eren’s hands before ushering him forward. 

Behind the screen, Eren ran the fine materials between his fingers in wonder***. The breeches were a dark, thin leather, so soft and buttery they could have been woven, and with ties up the side from ankle to just above the knee. The tunic was dark, dark green, and of a linen so fine it shone like silk, and hung down to right above where the ties on his breeches ended, with two wide slits reaching from hem to hip. The hemming itself was an elaborate stitch-work of gold thread and beading, and lined his wrists and collar, continuing down the front of the tunic to his bellybutton, the long opening held fast with a double line of softly buffed, gold buttons. The focal piece, however, seemed to be the coat. Eren could tell that the wool coat would be warm enough for a cold night, but thin enough to breathe under an afternoon sun. Reaching to just below the tunic and his knee, it had wide collars which, in addition to the shoulders and wrists, were finished with ornate brocade that featured the same gold threading and beading as the tunic, in addition to silk threads woven into dusky roses and greenery. The coat itself was a rich, dark black, that seemed to absorb the light. Lastly, came the shoes. Though just simple ankle boots, Eren took great pleasure in first pulling on rough-silk socks and then the leather shoes, the small wide heel they had giving him an extra boost in height. He took a tentative step, unsure in his new footwear, but quickly decided that he rather liked the dull clipping noise they made on the ground, and that the every so faint pinching at his toes just needed getting used to. 

Gathering up his robe, Eren made his way back towards the portly man from before, pulling a hand in his hair to try and set it back to rights after pulling his clothes on over it. The man turned and, on catching sight of Eren, promptly began to splutter.

“Good heavens!”

“Are you alright?” Eren rushed the last few steps forward, concerned. 

“Ha! Ha! Quite, quite, my dear boy. Oh, I understand, now.”

Eren frowned, confused. “Understand -?”

“Perfect, simply perfect, the outfit suits you stupendously. Oh, yes, stupendous!”

“Thanks?” Eren once again was being complimented, but left feeling only disconcerted. 

The man took Eren’s disposed of robe and pointed him towards the back courtyard with another airy exclamation of “perfect!” 

Hands in pocket, Eren joined the sluggish flow of boys making their way outside, eyes on his feet and, more excitingly, his new boots. With every step a smile spread across his face, bigger and bigger. Eren thought of trudging through snow with nothing but damp and frozen cloth held together with twine; he remembered praying he wouldn't lose his toes to the bite of the frost; rocks and sticks poking and stabbing… never again. 

“Eren!” Armin’s voice called out from behind him, and he spun to face his friend who hurried forward. “Can you believe all this — whoa.”

“You look so handsome!” Eren grasped Armin by the shoulders. With white breeches and a simple light blue tunic, Armin looked fresh and innocent. The bowl-cut only helped that impression along. 

“And _you_ look…wow, Eren, have you seen yourself?”

“When I was having my face decorated,” Eren frowned, self-conscious. Did he look silly?

“Come on,” Armin dragged him forward by the arm, and down a small side corridor, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” Eren glanced back at the main hall.

“Oh, nonsense,” Armin was showing a surprising streak of mischief, “if they didn’t want us down here, they would have corded it off or some such nonsense, now come on. I was wandering this way our first week, it should be somewhere arouunndd…aha! Here we are. Come look!”

Armin had pushed his way into a room, still very large, but not nearly as imposing as the grand hall, or even the dining hall. About half the latter in size, it had plain wooden floors, a wide window in the far end that let in a mass of natural light, and two parallel walls made entirely of mirrors. 

“What could a room like this possibly serve use for?” Eren wondered, still at its threshold.

“I’ve no idea,” Armin shrugged, tromping back over to pull Eren the rest of the way in, “but that isn’t what you’re supposed to be marveling at. _Look_.”

With a fond huff, Eren turned towards one of the mirrored walls — and promptly froze. 

Mirrors were as rare to Eren’s village as shoes, but over the coarse of the last two weeks, Eren had had his fair share of glimpses into mirrors set here and there throughout the manor, and grown familiar with his reflection. The person looking back at Eren now was a total stranger. 

Dark and mysterious, the figure caught the beam of light he stood in, and while his elegant clothing swallowed the light whole, the rest of that figure seemed to absorb it and downright _burn_ with it. His eyes flashed, luminescent; his skin radiated heat and warmth, burnished and glowing. Tall and regal, he was neither young nor old, his long lashes and full, dark lips exotic against his gold skin, and he was _beautiful_.

Eren stared at his reflection, open mouthed and speechless. 

Still, Armin acknowledged Eren’s shock, with a smug and popping, “Yupp.”

x

After spending a long few moments ogling his reflection, Eren allowed Armin to lead him back to the courtyard where they were meant to gather.

“I don’t understand,” Eren kept repeating, confused, and confused as to what exactly he was confused about to begin with.

“Yes, I know,” Armin reassured for the tenth or fifteenth time, patting his friend on the elbow.

“It’s just — I don't understand?”

“Hmm, yes, I did get that impression.”

Looking around, Eren’s confusion was heightened when he took in the other boys: like Armin, they were all dressed nicely, faces enhanced with makeup, hair styled, but compared to Eren…their clothing was plain, their cosmetics plain, their hair — plain. Eren looked out of place, in their midst, everything about him more striking and elaborate, though in no way ostentatious. He looked just as elegant as the others, but simply more. He looked, Eren thought, stomach twisting and heart twingeing, oddly _regal_.

For once, the other boys’ looks of contempt were mixed with additional emotions. Yes, there was the usual jealousy, but also admiration and, in some cases, a sparking regard that made Eren uncomfortable.

There were some refreshments laid out on a small table for the group to snack on, and Eren was surprised at just how hungry he was. Looking up at the clock tower, just visible, he was shocked to realize that it was well past afternoon; they had spent _hours_ getting ready. Was this how long nobles always took? No wonder the Cotidianum were forced to do all the work — the Expolitum were too busy playing dress up!

Some more time passed, and the rest of the boys made their way into the courtyard, finely dressed and coifed — though still none as finely as Eren. Shortly after the last boy’s arrival, the nobles approached.

Striding through the main doors, the nobles consisted of the usual faces, including the squad leaders, as well as the odious Sir Walling and the other nobles who had spent the two weeks as observers. Hanji followed close behind Erwin, at the groups’ head, and made a point of sending Eren hand gestures and exaggerated faces meant to communicate positivity and that they were impressed with how he had turned out. Eren arched a brow at Hanji, the simple gesture asking ‘did you do this?’ Hanji’s grin only grew larger, and the young boy sighed heavily. Should he be thanking or cursing the physician for their intervention? They _had_ agreed to help Eren to the best of their abilities, he supposed.

Levi, at Hanji’s side, scanned over the boys. When his eyes landed on Eren, his nostrils flared minutely, and he roughly tugged Hanji down by the shoulder to whisper something in their ear. If anything, this only made Hanji’s smile grow even _larger_ , if that was possible, as they whispered something back to the prince, who’s blank face gave away nothing of their conversation. Eren worried that Hanji had overstepped somehow, in having him outfitted so elaborately, but the physician looked as smug as ever.

“Young men of the Cotidianum,” Erwin beamed. “You all look wonderful, our staff did some excellent work. You look almost the part of the Expolitum!” Eren crinkled his nose around a sour frown. Was Erwin truly that tawdry? Even Levi seemed to glance at the blonde from the corner of his eye as if in exasperation at the advisor’s lack of grace.

“Now, I assume you must have realized, to some extent, that we were not quite honest with you, with regards to the purpose of your presence here,” Erwin continued. The boys mumbled in affirmation. “Yes, I thought so. I apologize for the covertness, but it was important that we observe you all in your natural state. Had you known the true purpose, you would have put on airs or acted according to how you believed was expected, which would have made the whittling down of numbers much harder. Hence the guise of a census.

Firstly, let me begin by saying that you twenty boys are all that remain from an original sampling of over 200, from a population of hundreds of thousands. That you have been chosen to be here is an honor and a privilege, and you should be proud. And this brings me to my point: why, exactly, you are here. As you know, the Cotidianum share a special bond of service to the Expolitum — you are the blood that keeps the heart of this kingdom pumping,” Erwin drew on the age old symbolism. “What you do not know is that this bond, which exists on a large scale as the appropriate class efforts of the working and ruling class, in which you do the labor we cannot, also exists on a much smaller scale.”

Eren’s brow furrowed (a near constant facial expression for him while at the manor) at Erwin’s words. Eren had realized that he and the other boys were to be haggled off by the simple fact that they were being gathered together according to age and looks, in much the same way someone looking to breed a fine horse might gather certain stock. Eren had not put any further meaning to goings-on, though, beyond usual Expolitum lechery and abuse. Was there more to this affair, after all? But then again, did it even matter?

“Queen Mikasa has been on the throne about three weeks now,” Erwin continued, “and with her coronation — as with every ruler of Mitras’ — comes a very important tradition and ritual that underscores and reinforces the bond between Expolitum and Cotidianum. To honor their subjects, every ruler since the beginning has also extended this tradition to the highest peerage of nobles, those in direct relation to the crown within a set number of branches. Her Royal Highness is no different in this, hence you twenty.

You lucky young men have been chosen based on a myriad of qualifications ranging from physical characteristics and athleticism, to mental acuity. And you have been chosen as a part of that most important ritual, what is called the Ritual of the Culling. Tonight, the highest ranking nobility closest to the crown will gather here. You will use the skills learned this past week to eat with them, to dance with them, and to converse with them. And when the evening is over, you will each be going home with one of them.

This is the duty you have been chosen for by Her Royal Majesty, conferred on you through the Ritual of the Culling: to enter into the household of a royal, in whatever capacity they see fit, thus reaffirming the order of Mitras, and ensuring Queen Mikasa’s successful rule.” Erwin finished his speech with another of his calculated beams, but if he had been expecting his explanation of enforced servitude to be met with excitement, he was sorely disappointed.

After a brief moment of quiet shock, the group of boys exploded in a flurry of panic, shouts of dismay and denial interspersed with cries of anger and outrage. Eren and Armin alone stood still and quiet in the sea of hysteria. The other nobles looked on with varying degrees of sympathy and annoyance; Hanji, especially, looked upset, while Levi was as stony faced as ever.

Erwin, maintaining that false cheer, gave the boys a moment to indulge in their fears, but then rained them in with a sharp clap of his hands. “Understand,” he spoke clearly, every word infused with a quiet, but powerful, authority, “that this role you have been gifted is a privilege of the highest prestige. You will be joining the ranks of the Expolitum, living in luxury, shirking the menial livelihoods you were born into. You should thank the gods that you, above all others in your class, were chosen for this.”

The boys shuffled awkwardly, looking around for each other’s reactions, slightly mollified, but mostly still anxious.

“I understand that this a lot to take in,” Erwin continued, more gently. “You have some time before the nobles begin to arrive. Use it to come to terms with this blessing, and prepare yourselves to be the best versions of yourself you can. You may wander, but remain in the courtyard and gardens, and do try to remain tidy. We will gather you once the nobles are ready, and you will process into the grand hall in the usual height order, with the smallest in front, at that time. Does anyone have any questions?”

Eren immediately stepped forward, “Yeah, you said we will be entering into these households in ‘whatever capacity they see fit.’ Do you mean that, truly? Will we not be afforded _any_ type of insurance?” He did not go into details as to what they would need insurance against, not wanting to start an outright riot, but from the tightening of Erwin’s eyes, Eren knew that the Vizier understood: abuse, maybe worse. Hanji brought their hands up to cup their own cheeks, lip pulled between their teeth, while Levi tilted his head to the side, waiting for Erwin’s response, and Sir Walling made a show of gasping in outrage.

“I assure you, Mr. Jäger, that you will be safe, healthy, and happy. It is indeed each individual noble’s prerogative to dictate how you join their household, but this is an important tradition, and they will keep that in mind when assigning you duties,” Erwin’s eyes sparked warningly.

Eren crossed his arms with a glower, but did not press on.

The advisor was being deliberately close-lipped, though that came as no surprise to Eren. He had not really expected to be assured in any official capacity or for the boys’ progress in their new homes to be monitored in any way. If their new masters wanted them to scrub floors, the boys would have to do so; if their new masters wanted sexual favors, the boys would have no choice there, either. This was truly a wretched situation, one which Eren had no way of putting into context — it was so absurd in theory alone, that he struggled picturing it in actual practice, leaving him feeling rather emotionally distant from it all. Eren had no doubt that his mind was practicing a bit of denial, here, in the name of self-preservation, but he couldn't begrudge his subconscious for doing its best to maintain his sanity.

“Now then,” Erwin finished, once he was sure that Eren would not be making anymore interruptions, “we will leave you to yourselves. Congratulations, once more, Cotidianum!”

The nobles began to file away, but Hanji took a moment to rush forward.

“Mendel’s Bones, Eren, I made sure that you’d be extra taken care of, but I never imagined!” they gushed, hands hovering near the boy’s shoulders as if actually touching him might be somehow detrimental.

“I don’t stick out like a sore thumb?” Eren chewed at his own thumb at the thought.

“Only in the best way, I promise,” Hanji finally settled on resting a hand on his shoulder. “Some of the nobles here have already taken notice,” they continued with a waggle of their brows.

Eren felt himself pale as a sudden thought struck him. “Are any of them bloodline? Will any of them be taking boys home?”

Hanji guffawed once, “If it’s Walling you’re worried about, don't be. That idiot has been trying to suck up to the royal family for years, now. He’s only here in some strange, roundabout way of supposedly aiding Her Majesty.”

“By doing what, exactly?” Armin puzzled.

“No doubt by removing himself from her presence,” Hanji snickered, and the boys joined them.

“I wish I could just go home with you,” Eren sighed.

“Oh, Eren,” they smiled almost nostalgically, “there are greater things in store for you than simple old me. Trust me.”

Eren had just opened his mouth to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean when a voice interrupted.

“Oi, Shitty Glasses. We’re supposed to be getting ready for tonight,” Levi appeared at the physician’s elbow, icy gaze traded out for his equally patented look of annoyance.

“Oh phooey, I detest that nonsense,” Hanji pouted.

“Obviously,” the prince gave Hanji’s messy appearance a pointed once over.

“We can’t all maintain the same level of immaculate cleanliness as you, Levi,” Hanji said with a roll of their eyes.

“You could at least bathe on a regular basis,” he spoke with no inflection.

Hanji had the good grace to wince at that, giving a slight bob of their head. “Yes, well, science. And whatnot.”

“Mm,” Levi’s answering hum was nowhere near convinced.

“Yes, right, well I suppose we best be going, then,” Hanji turned back to the boys. “Eren, Armin, best of luck. Levi and I will be there if you need us. Right Levi?”

“That’s Highness, to you.”

“Sure, sure. Levi and I will be there, just find us if you need us. And remember — just be yourselves! Right?”

Eren and Armin nodded, and with another squeeze of Eren’s shoulder, Hanji turned away with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t fuck up,” Levi told them airily, and followed in his friend’s wake.

“I hate him,” Eren grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waxing. Y I K E S. Would they have actually even had waxing during this quasi-medieval time? Who knows! 
> 
> Eren has ALMOST titan hair. Like, a lil shorter. But still. TITAN(-ish).
> 
> Sex. The activity that the anonymous makeup servant made Eren look like he just participated in is sex. 
> 
> I google the funnest things: “what were socks made of during medieval times?” 
> 
> ***Eren's outfit is largely inspired by this: pinterest. com/pin/444097213240602162/  
> (CAN SOMEONE TEACH ME HOW TO HYPERLINK THIS SHIT PLEASE AND THANK YOU HAVE ALL MY LOVE)
> 
> “He looked oddly *~*~*~regal*~*~*”   
> LMAO @ my own writing. what is subtlety and where can I buy some?
> 
> Hanji is the greatest wing-person to ever take a homie under said wing.
> 
> I know the way I portray Erwin affords him about as much grace as a bull in a China shop, but I like to think that 1) he kinda is that oblivious to how offensive his attempts at consolation/compliments are (though to be fair, as Expolitum he really doesn't even have to give 2 shits about being nice to the boios.) and 2) a lot of his foot-in-mouth disease is faked, so that people do not realize the super intellect stewing below the service. Kinda like how another, much tinier, blonde we know uses his perceived innocence to hide his own scary smarts.  
> I’d like to see someone make a ‘dumb-blonde’ joke in their vicinity and get verbally eviscerated.
> 
> TLDR; Eren is attractive as FUCK. But we all already knew this, yes? And Erwin is the stupidest smart person you know. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!!  
> Until soon! :)
> 
> x


	10. Falling Apart to (Her) Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more dance  
> such wow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to other fic writers maintain not only a regular posting schedule, but also absurdly long chapters? Hm?? It is witchcraft??? 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, dears — please accept this humble offering: more dancing and a never-ending ball. it never. ends. I CANT WAIT UNTIL I POST A CHAPTER NOT REVOLVING AROUND THE DAMN THING. :D  
> (soon.)  
> (i have a sex scene, for those craving that.)  
> (it’s the last one of the fic (LOL what is a time line))  
> (and it is glorious)  
> (and yes that implies there will be more than one)  
> (sooner than you may think)  
> again, for those who are excited for that kind of content… ;) ;)  
> for those who are not, I will give you plenty of advance warning and ways to navigate around it …. ;;;)))
> 
> Anyways, as always, thank you so, so much for all of the love and support, it absolutely boggles my mind that y'all like this mess of writing, but it makes me soooo happy, and all of the kudos and comments make my heart wanna explode. but in a good way.   
> Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> Please enjoy and — yes — let me know what you think!!!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> x
> 
> p.s. part 1 and 2 of last chapter have been combined, and i lost some comments on the second half which i deleted. I DID respond to them, though, so i'm hoping those lovely souls were still able to read my replies in their inboxes, at least. thank you thank you for your kind words xoxo

The next while passed in what, Eren thought rather understatedly, was a supremely tedious manner. Eren and Armin spent the remaining few hours nibbling on rolls and cheeses while strolling through the gardens. Armin was managing to maintain a relatively serene state of mind, humming quietly with a smile on his face. Eren had found a stick and was whacking irritably at shrubbery as they went. 

_Finally_ a bell rang out and the boys made their way back to the inner courtyard. Erwin stood there, dressed up in a tan colored suit that somehow managed to not look ridiculous, hair combed to the side in a shiny, severe part. 

“The nobles are waiting,” he smiled, and Eren wanted to throw up. 

With the aid of a few servants, Erwin was quick to usher the boys into a single file line. 

“You will enter the hall, chins high,” he directed, every inch a commander giving his troops their orders, “and will line up along the far wall. Once you are all lined up, you will bow. You will hold the bow until you feel a tap at your shoulder. At that point, you will accompany whomever tapped you. Simply follow their lead — they will guide you through the rest of the night’s activities. Understood?”

The boys nodded and, with that, the night began.

On entering the hall, Eren was struck by the sheer number of candles mounted on the walls, suspended from the ceiling, stood on every table and in every corner. But his contemplation of how stupid long it must have taken to light so many candles was quickly overtaken as his attention was diverted to the crowd idling about. After being told that only the direct relatives to the crown would be taking part in the culling, Eren had been expecting a small group made up of the 20 nobles in question. What he faced, instead, was a good couple dozen Expolitum dressed in their finest lace and satin; hooped ball gowns and gem encrusted tunics. 

As the boys made their way towards the indicated wall, the nobles came together in the center of the hall, their eyes fierce in their appraisal, taking in every aspect of the boys from their posture to their gait. Eren did his best to keep his eyes forward and ignore the whispers, poorly hidden behind silk fans and ring heavy hands. 

The Cotidianum lined up and, following Erwin’s instructions, bowed as one. And then — they waited. And waited…

Minutes went by where all Eren could see were his own feet, and all he could hear was the continued rustling and whispers of the nobility. He didn’t much mind the view — he was still quite taken with his new shoes — but the angle had his neck twinging and, close to a wall covered with candles, the strain and heat soon had sweat pebbling across his forehead. Eren took a deep breath and prayed for patience. 

His prayers went unanswered, though, because a few minutes later had him thinking ‘fuck it,’ and he abruptly straightened. The movement caused a stir in the crowd, mutters of shock and disapproval, but Eren himself was as equally taken aback — a figure stood directly in front of him, hand reached out no doubt to tap his shoulder. Eren grimaced and mumbled an apology while silently flagellating himself, and the noble lowered their hand.

Arching an eyebrow, Levi offered his arm, and Eren was quick to latch onto it. Levi led him into the thick of the room, and at that point the other nobles began approaching the boys and tapping them forward, and soon every boy was paired between a nearly equal amount of women and men. 

Eren opened his mouth, paused, changed his mind, and closed it again. 

“Don’t think into it too much,” Levi supplied as if hearing the young man’s unanswered question. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” was Eren’s murmured response. 

The remaining nobles either took seats at one of the large banquet tables set at the end of the room or split off into their own pairs, and those standing began circling the hall. Arm in arm with Levi — which was not nearly as awkward, given the height difference, as Eren would have suspected — Eren unabashedly observed the other nobles as, like some strange flock of birds, they all began circulating round and round the hall at a measured pace. 

Not one for prolonged silences, Eren leaned down a bit and asked in a half-voice, jerking his chin forward, “Who’s that?” The person in question was a man with hair in a riot of ringlets adorned with ribbons.

Levi spared Eren a brief glance before answering, “The Duke of Kabe.”

Eren hummed as if in great interest. “And that?” A woman wearing more ruffles than a curtain.

“Baroness Vallum.”

Another hum. “And—“

“Eren.”

“Yes?”

“Do stop.”

“Hmph.”

Another long moment passed in moderately comfortable silence. 

“I know you said not to think into it too much —“

A heavy sigh.

“— but um are you? Am I? Is, um,” Eren fumbled with his words, flustered and confused.

Levi’s voice, low and quiet, cut him off. “No, Eren. I am not taking you home with me.”

Eren told himself that the dropping sensation in his stomach was not disappointment. 

“Then why?”

“I am acting as a mediator,” came the oddly reluctant response.

“For who?” Eren turned his face to Levi fully, incredulous, pulling the royal to a stop. The other nobles tutted and mumbled at the halt in traffic, but flowed around the pair easily enough. 

“You’ll meet them soon enough. Now come on,” Levi grasped Eren’s arm firmly, tugging him forward once more. 

“This whole thing is bullshit,” Eren muttered petulantly, as much for the fact that he was about to be sold off like a slave, as for the ‘not-disappointment’ pulling his shoulders into a slump. 

“Fuck if I know it,” Levi blew out on a heavy breath, surprising Eren into a sharp, little grin. 

The mass of nobles continued to make their rounds about the hall for a good quarter of an hour until, by some unspoken signal, they all drew to a halt, pulling back to the center. The doors at the far end of the hall opened outwards, revealing a small party. As the latest arrival of nobles glided forward, those already gathered bowed low, parting to allow the newcomers to pass down the center of the hall. Eren followed the others’ example, dipping low, and only when Levi elbowed him in the side did he stop trying to sneak a glance. If even Levi was bowing, one or all of them had to be incredibly important. 

The group reached the head of the room and the crowd broke into polite applause, rising from their bows and curtsies, and then music began playing. A slow, stately melody, the nobles were quick to line up to dance to it. Eren looked sideways at Levi, but he was looking at the newcomers still stood at the front of the hall, brow furrowed. 

Worried that he was about to be plowed over by the overly enthusiastic lord prancing nearby, Eren nudged Levi to get his attention. The noble snapped back to attention, and swiftly guided Eren away from what was becoming a large dance floor. 

“Something wrong?” Eren asked, unsure whether the idea made him smug or concerned.

“Wait here,” Levi said depositing Eren by a pillar, and quickly, but smoothly, made his way towards the new group. 

Eren debated ignoring Levi’s order, but the mass of Expolitum had him nervous despite himself, and if he thought about the situation too deeply, the reality of his imminent thralldom was likely to make him dizzy with cotton mouthed terror. So, after losing sight of Levi behind a group of bustling silk and feathers, Eren contented himself with tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking from heel to toe, his new shoes adding a new and strange sensation to the otherwise familiar mannerism. 

A servant passed with a tray loaded with glasses of some sparkling liquid, and Eren was all too happy to relieve the young lady of two of her charges. He drank one quickly, the bubbles tickling his nose, the tang of alcohol warm in his throat. He unloaded the empty glass with another passing servant, and resolved to sip the second flute more slowly — his elbows and knees already felt rubbery from the first. 

Halfway through the second glass, Levi finally reappeared. “There you are!” Eren smiled at him widely, feeling funnily pleased. 

Levi paused in whatever he was about to say, and took Eren in from head to toe, eyebrow arched. “Are you drunk?” the corner of his mouth ticked ever so slightly. 

Eren waved the question away with an exaggerated frown, “From one glass of wine? Unlikely!”

“Except that that isn't wine. It’s champagne. And it will go to your head much more quickly than wine.”

Eren stared down into his now almost empty flute in wonder, and then held it away to glare at it in betrayal. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!”

“So you _are_ drunk.”

“I am moderately sloppy at best. Or worst?”

“We will soon find out,” Levi pursed his lips before linking his arm through Eren’s and pulling him back towards the dance floor.

“Where are we going?” Eren asked, voice pitched high, despite it being glaringly obvious. Levi did not deign to answer. “I don’t - I don't want to,” Eren tried again.

“I’m afraid that that is a moot point — and one you will most likely have to acquaint yourself with, in perpetuity.”

“What?”

“Tough shit.”

Eren pouted, but allowed Levi to drag him to the edge of the floor with minimal resistance, though the noble kept his grip firm.

“You remember last night?” Levi asked quietly,

“Hard to forget,” Eren mumbled. 

Levi’s eyes narrowed, but he only continued, “This dance will be similar, though it will begin differently.”

Now it was turn for Eren’s eyes to narrow, “Different how?”

“I will lead you through the steps, if you can follow those that will be half the battle. As for the rest: you begin with your arms at your sides -“

“Well that seems stup—“

“As with the footwork,” Levi spoke over him, “I will lead you into the handwork. The hardest part will be knowing when to turn, but I will tell you. Just pay attention, think of yourself as an extension of me, and try not to trip on your own fucking feet.”

“I still think this is stup—“

The current dance ended, the lords and ladies bowing and curtsying respectively, and Levi quickly led Eren into their midst, cutting him off once more.

Stepping close, Levi rested his right hand at the small of Eren’s back, drawing him in. Levi’s left hand was tucked smartly behind his own back, and Eren allowed his arms to hover at his sides. Levi’s eyes quickly flitted down, taking in Eren’s posture, and he hummed under his breath in approval. “Let the show begin.”

Eren allowed himself one small glance around — there were only two other pairs of nobles on the floor with them, but before he could voice any concern or confusion, one violin picked up a beat, the others joined in, and the dance was starting. 

With his hand on Eren’s back, and an almost whispered direction to ‘sway,’ Levi guided Eren through the dance’s opening steps, a gentle back and forth, before using the momentum of the movement to spin them both together in one full rotation. Eren used the opportunity to look around once more, at the way all of the other nobles had gathered to watch. 

“It won’t be nearly as dramatic, without a dress,” he stuttered out, as they sway stepped once more.

“Oh, I image it will be dramatic enough,” Levi said, and then, “now spin.”

Eren twirled once, arms light beside him, Levi’s hand always guiding at his waist, before they stood face to face again. True to his word, his feet leading in a basic back and forth side step, right arm still behind his back, Levi tucked his left below Eren’s, rising and lowering both in an elegant waving motion in time with their steps. 

“Another spin,” Levi murmured, gently cupping Eren’s wrist on a crest, trailing it down his forearm before dropping it to his waist. Eren, struck by the intimacy of the movement, and recalling Levi’s earlier instruction to think of himself as an extension of Levi, did what only seemed natural and, as Levi’s hand smoothed down it, Eren brought that arm down to rest against the nobles chest, continuing the spin with Levi following along in the rotation. 

“Good,” Levi spoke softly, bringing his tucked right hand up to meet against Eren’s right, resting on Levi’s chest, and gave a push with it. Eren took the cue, stepping back to spin once quickly on his own, in the direction his hand was nudged, before returning to Levi in a joined rotation in the other direction, posture the same but with switched sides. Once more, Levi brought his hand up, this time his left, to push gently at Eren’s, and Eren once again spun off on his own. But this time, before he could return to face Levi, the noble reached back to clasp hands, left to left, and led Eren around in a stepping swirl, before casting Eren off into another solo spin, catching him out of it in the same hand to hand clasp, but this time from the front. 

The steps felt like a strange catch and release, and Eren could not shake the feeling that he was being chased, as much as giving chase, as he was pulled in and pushed away, led forwards and backwards in a constantly rotating step. 

Despite the confusion, though, he let himself sink into the melody and the basic footwork, and allowed his body to read Levi’s, every twitch and tell that indicated where the noble wanted him next. Levi’s firm touch and murmured reassurances and directions helped. And once more, Eren was struck by how incredibly natural dancing with Levi was, when all was said and done; how he could feel his heart in his ears, the champagne still bubbling through his bones making him giddy despite the self-consciousness burning beneath everything, the terror and fury below _that_. In this moment, Eren was _happy_. 

Finally, after one more pushing twirl, Levi swept Eren fully into his arms, and they were dancing like the night before. Hand in hand, chest to chest, Levi lead Eren through a rotating three step, punctuated with normal twirls, and Levi spinning Eren out by a connected hand, always to reel him back in. 

As the music climaxed, as the grin Eren hadn't even bothered trying to hold back grew, Levi grew bolder in his steps, leading Eren in increasingly powerful rotations that covered more ground and had the crowd stepping back in delighted surprise. Eren, struck by the idea that if he had been wearing a dress, many a noble would no doubt have just been battered to the floor with their proximity, let out an abrupt laugh that sparkled above the music. 

Levi’s eyes seemed to grow warmer, though his expression did not change, and he guided Eren back towards the center of the floor, no doubt reading into Eren’s amusement. 

“Are you ready?” Levi asked.

“Up?” Eren could barely contain his eagerness. 

In answer, Levi brought their joined hands down, raised them, and once more Eren was struck with the breathless sensation of _flying_. 

“Once more,” Levi spoke, but this time instead of using Eren’s own locked elbow as leverage, he brought both hands to the younger man’s waist and, using only his own strength, lifted Eren gracefully into the air, continuing the steps on his own the whole while. Eren bit back a very unmanly squeak at being so thoroughly and efficiently manhandled, hands on Levi’s shoulders. When the noble brought Eren back down, the brunette could only stare at Levi wide eyed and mouth parted in shock at the show of power, his body instinctually returning to the waltz’s basic steps. Levi tilted his head, eyes on Eren’s face for a prolonged moment, before suddenly lifting Eren by the waist again. This time the squeak escaped, and Levi looked unfairly self-satisfied as he returned Eren to the ground. 

“But- you’re so -“ 

“You better not be about to make a comment about height,” Levi spoke over Eren, and though there was a grin on his face, it wasn't exactly friendly. 

Eren laughed despite himself. “Never,” he mimicked Levi’s earlier movement, and tilted his head to the side before being twirled. 

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” Levi pulled him even closer, dropping their joined hands, and spinning them, other hand still on Eren’s waist.

“Yeah. But I’m a pretty good dancer,” Eren positively dripped with self-satisfaction, before Levi was pulling back. Levi’s right hand on Eren’s back clasped Eren’s own before breaking off with another of those gentle nudges that had Eren starting to spin in the other direction, before Levi reached with his left hand over their just parted rights. Eren reached with his own left, and Levi pulled it high and to the side, pulling Eren sideways and rather backwards, while Levi’s newly freed right hand came around to catch Eren around the back. Eren’s own free hand wrapped around Levi’s waist, and then he was being soundly tipped, joined hands arched over their heads like a living pergola. Eren’s head nearly reached the floor, before he was just as quickly being brought back up to right. 

The sudden whip of the movement had Eren’s head rushing, and standing close to, but not touching, Levi as the noble took a step back and bowed, only added to the fuzzy sensation. It was a moment before Eren was able to realize that the flowing sound in his ears was in fact applause, and as he glanced around in shock, he realized that at some point during the dance, the other pairs had left the floor. Now, the music restarted and couples returned, but Eren and Levi remained standing, only inches away from each other, but feeling much farther apart. 

Eren latched his gaze onto Levi’s in uncertainty, breath heavy, but the noble only stared back, his own sleet colored eyes intense in their concentration. Before Eren could open his mouth to say — he wasn't sure what, but _anything_ , the group of newcomers swept in from the side. 

“Beautifully done, thank you for showing me, I am quite content in my decision,” the leader spoke to Levi, who ducked his head in deference before excusing himself and turning away without another glance in Eren’s direction. 

Dread pooled in Eren’s chest, dark and heavy, and he had to force himself to breathe. Their ‘decision’? Was this the noble who was to purchase Eren, then?

“Will you join me, Eren?” the noble asked softly. A woman, pale skinned, her dark hair was pinned up with pearls, framing confident gray eyes. Her dress was a deep, purple damask, and her only jewelry was a thin, silk red ribbon tied flush against her neck. When Eren, too busy taking all of this in, and fighting his hysterical edge of panic, was not quick enough to answer, she arched a brow. “Well?”

“Oh-of course, yes, your —?” 

“Grace,” she filled in his question. 

Eren’s eyes widened briefly, but he quickly settled. That meant that the woman in front of him was a Duchess, making her a highest ranking peer, after Levi. “Your Grace,” Eren tried to smooth over his faux pa, “it would be an honor, thank you.” He bowed once more before offering his arm, and the Duchess took it with a small smile before leading Eren into the thick of the room. Eren pointedly did not look back in search of a certain vertically-challenged noble. 

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See that girl, Watch that scene, Dig in the dancing queeeeeen~*~*~*  
> hint: that ain’t no mere duchess   
> SO, like, we’re finally starting to get somewhere, hey!
> 
> Eren and Levi’s dance was literally so stupid hard to describe. How do you say hand, without saying hand for the twentieth time in a row? Spin? Twirl? Step? DANCE? My thesaurus was USELESS to me!   
> Hopefully that scene made even a lick of sense, and if it didn’t? You can just google the dance from the 2015 **Cinderella movie**, because this was a shameless attempt at reproducing that. I think I spent like 20 minutes smashing the space bar and arrow keys as I tried to describe the dance’s every move. Boo. 
> 
> ALSO — I’m a little concerned that Eren is coming off emotionally stunted or some such, with regards to his reactions to being sold off to indentured servitude. But you know how when something awful has/is going to happen, and it’s inevitable, you just know that thinking about it in any real, serious way will probably only break you? So the only thing you can do is observe it from halfway, and refuse to allow the fullness of the horror to set in, but while still maintaining a completely functioning awareness of it, separate from your emotions? That awful kind of self-preserving disconnect? That’s Eren. And I really hope I’ve managed to bring that out. Pls let me know, I’ll cherish you forever.
> 
> Aaaanyway.  
> Thank you again so so much for reading, not only this fic, but also these silly notes, and for all of your kudos and comments.  
> Hmu on tumblr at kalipeda  
> All the best, my peaches!!
> 
> x


	11. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren finds out more about his mysterious "benefactor," and saves Armin in the process. Levi is Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who decided that starting a fic right as I went back to school full-time was a good idea? Was that me? Why would I do that?
> 
> But for real — I’m so sorry for the long wait.  
> Uh. Happy New Year?
> 
>  
> 
> Potential TW for a slight panic attack, and a tiny scene that is rather NSFW. Sadly not between Eren and Levi, though RIP. Any questions, concerns, or you feel I missed anything, drop me a comment or hit me up on tumblr @ [kalipeda](https://kalipeda.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

EREN spent the rest of the night in the Duchess’ company, a cluster of higher ranking nobles a constant companion to his awkwardness. Eren tried his best to be polite — hell, to be _charming_ even, realizing it would be smart to give a good first impression to the person he was pretty sure would be determining his fate, for the rest of his life. But he was distracted. 

The Duchess — who had yet to share her actual name — seemed content to sprawl on the cushioned settees placed to the side of the hall as a small sitting area, surrounded by her posse, asking Eren perfunctorily shallow questions: had he had a chance to eat or drink anything? wasn’t the music just lovely? Were her line of inquiry to become more in depth or personal, then the blue-blood would have risked revealing the loudly kept secret of the night, which was that Eren, pampered and tutored as he’d been these last weeks, was essentially a prisoner to the Expolitum’s whims.

Eren, for his part, played along, but his gaze kept flitting to the mass of bodies filling the rest of the hall, desperate despite himself to catch sight of someone familiar. Once or twice, he was certain that he managed to spy a familiar, small, blonde head, but as for Levi, the noble seemed to have disappeared for the night. Eren firmly squashed the twinge in his ribs at that. 

And so the evening progressed in a series of fits and starts; whirls of taffeta and pearl and the golden bubble of champagne, interrupted by the Duchess’ smooth voice and demure laugh, her occasional touch on Eren’s elbow, light as air. Eren’s glass was never left empty for long, at the Duchess’ behalf, and the spinning of his thoughts began to grow more literal as the alcohol strummed through his fingers, making his teeth tingle, helping his smile to come more easily and his laugh to seem more genuine. 

“You don’t want to dance?” he asked at one point, a slight crease between his brows the only indication that he had heard the slight slur in his own words. 

“It is so common,” the Duchess arched a thin brow, snapping open a fan of the same lustrous purple as her dress as if to underscore her words. Indeed, as soon as the fan was open, she was snapping it shut once more, tapping it on Eren’s shoulder twice, “The wolf does not perform in the circus.” 

“But the lion and tiger do?”

“Excuse me?”

“The rest of that quote, that’s how it goes.”

“Oh? I don’t believe I am familiar with that line,” The Duchess sipped from her own crystal glass, fan now hanging idly from her wrist. 

“‘The lion and tiger may be stronger, but the wolf does not perform in the circus,’” Eren recited obediently.

“How quaint! No doubt a pastoral revision. But my point remains.”

“It’s always puzzled me,” Eren responded by way of answer.

“How so?” By this point, the other nobles seated around had paused in their own conversations to listen in.

Eren rolled his lip between his teeth as he tried to align his wobbly thoughts, distantly aware that he should probably just be quiet. But the gauzy quality of his inhibition was not enough to curb his words. Eren giggled.

“What is it, boy?” the Duchess asked, smile thin, fan firmly in grip once more “you disagree?” Eren tilted his head from shoulder to shoulder, and the Duchess continued, “Though the masses may participate in the ‘circus’, and though they may be larger in number and, so, brute force, the wolf alone stands apart, making her the ultimate predator. One might even argue that she runs the circus, herself.” The other nobles were quick to murmur their agreements, and the Duchess’ thin smile grew more smug. “You see?”

Eren hummed to the Duchess’ nod, gaze cast down but eyes focused on nothing, “It’s a bit silly, though, isn’t it?” he spoke softly. 

The nobles chuckled amongst themselves, and the Duchess’ tone told Eren that she was humoring him when she again prompted, “What is, boy?”

Rubbing his fingers over his lips, he slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers, their almost-black sharp on Eren’s fuzzy green-blues, “Well it’s not like they’re there by choice, is it? Gods forbid they ever get loose. That wolf better hope it can run fast.” 

The nobles grew deathly quiet around them, the Duchess’ gaze harsh. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean, Eren Jäger?” every word was deliberate in its articulation. 

The heaviness of the situation was finally enough to penetrate Eren’s alcohol induced haze, and he barked out a shaky laugh, shoulders curving in, “It means, Your Grace, that I have had an embarrassing amount to drink, and I beg your forgiveness for this shame. I think I need a fresh breath of air. By your leave?”

The Duchess seemed to relax, and the other nobles began to whisper amongst each other while looking down their noses at him, do doubt discussing what an embarrassing drunk he was. “Of course,” her smile had returned to its previously polite pout, “I forget that you are not used to our indulgences. You are not the only Cotidianum who will be feeling their drink tonight, I warrant. Go on, boy, but come back soon, yes?”

Eren stood and gave a deep bow, “Of course, your grace,” before getting the hell out of there. 

x

Back in the same garden he’d been forced to wait in earlier that day — what seemed a life time ago — Eren found a small stone bench hidden behind a well placed hedge to huddle down on. Wrapping his arms around his pulled up legs, he buried his face in his knees with a groan. “Why am I so stupid?” he entreated the heavens. 

He nearly fell off the bench and onto his ass when the heavens answered back, “I’ve been asking myself that same question every day.”

Lifting his face, Eren glared at Levi as the noble settled himself elegantly on the other side of the bench. “Ha. Ha.”

Levi merely shrugged, though his eyes held faint amusement. 

“I thought you’d retired for the night,” Eren said, not a little accusingly, continuing before Levi could answer, “You just — left me there.” He swallowed thickly, burying his words in his knees once more.

“Are you… _crying_?” Levi sounded horrified, but Eren was too busy sniffling into his fancy pants to look up and verify the emotion.

“No! Everyone’s just really mean and I’m just _drunk_ ,” his voice cracked on the last word, “I’m so stupid,” he growled angrily, scrubbing his face where it remained hidden in the circle of his limbs. 

“Eren,” the prince began, but was cut off.

“I’m _fine_ , Levi, honestly, it’s just that the champagne is making it really hard not to ignore everything as I’ve been doing, you know? It takes a lot of work to pretend everything is okay — not that it isn’t. Like I said, I’m _fine_ , it’s just, I’m about to be _sold_. I don’t-? I mean how do I cope with _that_? How does anybody? It’s, it’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, being forced into servitude, yet here I am!” Through his false cheer, everything suddenly seemed to hit Eren at once. “Oh Gods I’m going to be a _slave_ , and the Duchess seems nice enough but what the fuck, what in the actual _fuck_ how is this real what the fuck what the _fuck whatthefuckdoidogodshelpme-_!” Eren cut himself off with a whimper. He had somehow ended up squatting on the ground, both hands wound painfully through his hair, pulling, head tucked between his knees as his breath came faster than his previous words and _he was going to die, Eren was going to die, he was_ — 

The tight squeeze at the back of his neck, pushing his head lower, was enough to make his breath catch. The firm “Eren” that followed enough to help him find his way out of the panic that had seized him. Though he managed to control his breathing, time went a little funny, then, and it wasn't until that warm, constant hand on his nape gave another, though this time more gentle, squeeze that Eren realized his knees and thighs were protesting, and had been for awhile, now.

“I - I’m okay,” he rasped. Reaching out for something solid to push off of and onto his feet, he blinked when calloused fingers wrapped around his own, giving a strong pull. Eren wobbled once, before the grip on his hand gently pulled him back to the bench, where he sat with a watery huff. “Well shit,” he tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was too sharp and broken. Levi said nothing — what _could_ he say, Grand Prince of the Expolitum, complicit as he was — but he didn’t let go of Eren’s hand, either. Eren took the meager comfort being offered him.

Eventually, many long minutes later, Eren pulled himself loose. “The Duchess,” he cleared his throat, standing, “she’s probably wondering where I’ve gone off to.” 

Levi stood then, too, stepping close, while Eren kept his eyes trained on the scant inch of ground between them. He startled briefly at a silky touch on his cheek, only to realize that Levi was wiping under his eyes with a silk handkerchief. Eren supposed he looked quite the mess, and lifted his own hands to try and pat his hair to rights, as well. When both men were finished, Levi pressed the handkerchief into Eren’s palm. 

Eren glanced down at the black silk square before finally meeting Levi’s gaze with an arched brow. “A gift?” he attempted to smirk, desperate to wrap himself once more in the apathy he had brandished so successfully until this point. 

Levi was quiet a beat too long, and Eren felt his lip wobble before biting it fiercely. _Come on_ , he begged silently, needing Levi to play along with his charade, to pretend nothing was wrong lest Eren well and truly fall apart with the admission to reality. 

With a harsh exhale through his nose, Levi finally lifted his own brow in a mirror of Eren’s, “It’s covered in your snot and tears. Either you take it or I burn it.”

The laugh that escaped Eren at that was shaky, but genuine, lip still caught between his teeth. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he breathed, taking a step back, referring to more than just the handkerchief. Levi nodded once in understanding, before the young man turned and began walking back towards the noise of the manor, leaving the noble behind. 

“Eren,” came the call, right before Eren stepped into the large square of light being cast through the open terrace windows and onto the lawn by the hundreds of candles. He glanced over his shoulder, but in the dark of the garden, Levi was barely shadow. “I’m sorry.” The Prince’s eventual words were barely an undertone on the wind. 

Eren blinked rapidly through an uneven series of nods. “I know,” he smiled weakly, voice high and defeated, oh so defeated, splintered into shards that would never find their way back together. As he turned away again, one gleaming shoe leading the other into the glowing outline of grass, Eren whispered quietly to himself, “That’s what makes it even worse.” 

x

Back at the Duchess’ side, Eren was noticeably quieter than before, though if anything his docility seemed to please the nobles. This time, Eren did not bother looking around, instead paying an inordinate amount of attention to the wringing of his hands. He allowed the meaningless words of the Expolitum to filter through his thoughts, to push back his _own_ thoughts, keeping his mind tentatively blank. But of course the hesitant peace he had clawed into place could not last long, because Eren’s life had become a series of terrible events following so closely on each others’ heels, that they had essentially melded into one, great big awful _thing_. 

“Ma-my Lady,” came the unfortunately familiar snivel. Eren looked up from his picked apart cuticles to glare at Walling. When the Duchess deigned to incline her head at the noble in acknowledgment, he continued, “You are wise beyond your years, held in esteem by the Gods. Your word is law, and the law your word,” Eren frowned, thinking that Walling was laying it on a bit thick for a Duchess, and might want to curb his words lest he be accused of treason, “but, Fair Lady, I beg of you, reconsider your decision.”

If Walling had pulled down his pants and proceeded to piss on the everyone’s shoes, it would have gone over better than his words. The cabal of nobles immediately froze, turning towards the Duchess. The woman in question had turned to ice. Her lips were twisted into a blade, her brow a deep vee of thunder. 

“What.” 

It was not a question.

Sir Walling swallowed thickly, but pushed on, much to Eren’s horror (and glee), “Your Ma -, that is, My Lady, you placed me here to aid in overseeing the culling, to ensure that only the very best of the Cotidianum were chosen to enter into the upper echelons. I did my best to carry out that duty and, while I admit that I allowed this, this _boy_ , to enter into the preliminary round of judgment, it was to teach him a lesson for challenging my and, through me, _your_ position. I intended to have him ejected immediately, and for the shame to fill him with the humility he is sorely lacking. Despite my best efforts and authority, though, I have been ignored and over-ruled time and time again! His majesty the Prince, that is, I’m quite certain he agrees with me, he did treat the peasant with especial scorn, but that physician seems to have been taken in by his uncouth ways, and she has led the vizier and head priest astray! I know it! But I, _I_ , know better! Charged with your mandate to keep these events to proper standard, I have watched this gutter-bred boy challenge authority and take liberties that a person of his station has _no_ right to! He is a rabble-rouser and belligerent, and disrespectful and, and, _obnoxious_ , and unworthy of your regard! And so I beg you, Lady, rethink your decision!”

Walling had grown increasingly loud and agitated as he spoke, his hands sweeping in ever broader and jerkier motions, sweat beading on his brow and collecting in his wiry brows and mustache. The silence of the immediate group of nobles had spread, until the awkward sawing of the violins, desperately trying to fill the threatening quiet, was the only sound. 

Slowly, the Duchess rose to her feet. “Lord Walling,” her voice was smooth, no sign of the ice cracking underneath the surface. “I sent you here, _sir_ , that I might remove your odious presence from that of my own. Your position as overseer was a thin excuse to placate you and your grasping fingers, and one which I am, sadly, not surprised to learn you did not see straight through as my cousin, physician, and vizier all have. The Grand Prince, not you, was entrusted with selecting the proper candidate for my consideration, but even then, I did not rely on his advice blindly, and have been quietly gathering data and observations from numerous sources to aid me in my decision, as I do not take its significance lightly — that includes the head physician, as I hold _them_ and _their_ insights in the utmost regard. That I am deigning to even explain this to you is an honor, and were it not for your position and title, rest assured that I would have you thrown out of this hall. However, your rank being what it is, let me simply give you this warning: do not, for one iota of a second, ever again even _presume_ to question, advise, or even _imply_ what I should or should not do. Should you _ever dare_ to challenge me again, even if only in your thoughts, I will have your title stripped, and sentence you to life in gaol for sedition. Do I make myself clear?”

Walling had turned the color of burnt grass, but managed to choke out a sound of acknowledgment along with a bow so deep his nose nearly touched his toes, before the Duchess waved him away with a scoff. Sitting once more, she turned to Eren with an expression of annoyance, “I really hate that man. He’s so…”

“Piggy?” Eren supplied. 

The Duchess’ shark-like eyes sparkled with the first sign of true amusement that Eren had seen that evening. “That is exactly it!” She clapped once in restrained glee, “Oh, Eren. You are clever.”

There wasn’t anything clever about drawing a rather obvious parallel, but Eren was still reeling with the satisfaction of having Walling finally put into his place to be offended that the bar for his cleverness had apparently been set so low. He tracked Walling’s movement through the crowd, feeling a bit exhausted at the whiplash of extreme opposing emotions he was being put through that night. Not to be proved wrong, the fatigue grew heavier, only to be replaced with shaking adrenaline as Walling latched thick, clumsy fingers onto the shoulder of none other than Armin. The small blonde had terror written in his eyes, though moved stiffly as Walling pushed him towards the doors.

Eren jumped up, only to sit back down at the Duchess’ indignant expression. “Please, Your Grace, I must beg your leave once more.”

“Again? You haven’t even had any more to drink.”

“No indeed but I, I find myself in need of, um, relieving myself?” Eren cringed, as the nobles tittered in scandal.

The Duchess sniffed judgmentally, “We do not speak of such things, boy, my Gods. But no doubt that is the way of the Cotidianum, so I will disregard it this once. Go, for heaven’s sake.”

Eren refrained from pointing out that if she hadn’t questioned why he was asking to be excused, he wouldn’t have had to explain it in the first place, and simply bowed with a grimace before, once again, getting the hell out of there. 

Working to keep his pace from escalating into a full-out run, Eren surged into the crowd.  
Over his dead body would Walling be taking Armin home. 

His gaze whipping back and forth, Eren searched for _someone_. A familiar messy tuft snagged his gaze, and he pushed through the nobles, catching Hanji’s elbow. 

“Hanji! I need your help!”

“What is it, Eren?” their full attention, suffused with warmth and concern was a balm on the young man’s nerves.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t have to worry about Walling, but he’s taking Armin!”

Hanji’s eyes narrowed before widening, “I knew you were fast-tracked to be chosen by Mi- My Lady, I meant that Walling wouldn’t be a concern for _you_! I never thought he would choose Armin, he’s been so attached to that one simpering boy, oh I’m sorry Eren! Walling can’t leave yet, though, not until the ball had been royally dismissed for the night.”

“Can you stop him before then?”

“I don’t-“

“Can you challenge him? Take Armin for your own?” Eren bit his lip. 

“I - I am not of the peerage, Eren, I do not have the right.” Hanji’s voice wobbled.

Eren lifted his hands to dry-wash his face, but his makeup had already been smeared and barely put back to rights after his latest cry, so he settled on weaving his fingers behind his neck instead. He pushed aside the warm memory of Levi’s fingers in that same place. _Levi._

“The Prince!” He exclaimed, “Have you seen Levi?”

“Last I saw he was in the gardens, why?”

“Has he chosen?”

Hanji’s eyes lit up in understanding, “He refused. Said something about refusing to be an active participant in a human auction.” 

Eren felt his brain grind to a momentary halt — he had used that exact same phrase only a few days previously. Shaking his head, and unsure what to do with that information, Eren forged on. “I need to find him, can you help me?”

Hanji nodded through a sharp grin, “I’ll take the hall, you search the gardens. Meet on the balcony ten minutes from now.”

“Right.” And then, before splitting, Eren grabbed Hanji by the wrist to stutter another heart-felt “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me for being a barely decent human being, Eren. I am only doing my best to atone for my part in all of this.”

“Most wouldn’t,” Eren pointed out.

“Yes, well, most people suck,” Hanji cackled before breaking away.

Eren twisted on his heel and made for the garden once more. Back in the damp shadows of all that green, he let his pace increase into a fast jog. 

“Levi?” he ventured to call, more of a loud whisper than anything, as he began to wind his way through the maze of shrubs and and flower beds, the trees breaking the clear night sky into a series of broken pains that made the moon a less than reliable source of light. “Levi!” 

Eren startled as he came upon a noble couple secreted between two rose bushes; one woman straddled the other on a bench, both their dresses gathered around their waists as they rolled into each other with hitching pants, mouths open and hovering over each other. 

Swallowing thickly, glad for the cold, dark air around him as his cheeks flared with fire and his breeches seemed to grow slightly tighter, Eren quickly continued on deeper into the maze, leaving the couple to carry on undisturbed. His mind whirred with what he’d seen. For all the usual talk that boys his age carried on with about sex, Eren was still very much a virgin. He had only ever kissed two people, and had had little say in the matter both times. 

Mary had been soft and sweet. It was harvest season, and the town’s festival was a mess of music and laughter, bonfires scattered throughout the streets and town square flickering and spreading the spicy smells of roasting meats. Mary had pulled him aside for a word, as Eren’s friends elbowed each other knowingly in the background. Rather than exchange words, though, she had reached up on tiptoes for a chaste press of lips, body pressing supple against his own, before scampering away giggling to rejoin her own group of tittering friends, leaving Eren surprised but pleased. She’d married his neighbor barely a year later.

Tom had been a lieutenant of Eren’s street-gang, the Rag’n’Bones. They’d been hiding in an alley from the angry baker they’d just pilfered a fresh loaf from, breathless with silent laughter and adrenaline as they hid in the shadows. Eren had looked up at Tom, a few years older, tall and wiry, with a grin, mouth open to make a joke, when he was suddenly pressed hard into the wall, hands hot on his waste as a tongue fought its way searingly into his mouth. That kiss had lasted significantly longer then the one with Mary, and left Eren hot and aching. Tom had only stepped away with a wink, before declaring the coast clear, a brush of his hand down Eren’s cheek his last touch before they split up to reconvene at the gang’s base. Eren had made it safely. Tom had not. A rival gang had seen him picking his way alone, and brutalized him in a message of hostility. By the time the Rag’n’Bones had found him, Tom was just a body, having died in a puddle of his own blood. 

Eren nearly shrieked as he collided with someone, his thoughts cutting back to the present and his need to protect Armin. Reaching out instinctively, he latched onto broad shoulders, only to feel his air punch out in relief. “Levi!”

“Brat?” The Grand Prince was no doubt confused by Eren’s eagerness, considering how they had just parted from each other barely an hour earlier. 

“I need your help!”

“What is it?” Levi’s hands tightened on Eren’s waist — he’d never pulled back after steadying him from his crash. Deciding he rather liked that particular physical comfort, Eren tightened his own grip on Levi’s shoulders, in turn.

“It’s Armin. Walling has him, and I know it’s because of me! He confronted the Duchess about choosing me, and she humiliated him. He’s had it out for me since the beginning, and Armin is my friend. I know he is doing this to get to me, and I can’t let Armin suffer because of me. Please!”

Levi brought one hand from Eren’s wrist to grasp the back of his neck, and Eren let his head drop forward. Levi ducked his head to maintain eye contact, “What would you have me do?”

“Take him,” Eren whispered. Levi froze. “You are good, and kind, and I know you will not treat Armin as anything less than a friend,” Eren pleaded.

“I-“

“Please, Levi!”

“Won’t you think less of me?”

“What? Why?”

Levi’s mouth twisted into a smile, but it was empty of amusement. “You have fought since the beginning, with fist and word, because of the injustice of the Culling. And, somehow, you have managed to worm your way into my head, because every time I think of what is going on here, I am filled with disgust at myself and my station, not least of all because I am unable to do anything about it all. I am impotent to change anything, beyond my own self. And I, I value your opinion of me, Eren, Gods only know why. I chose not to partake in the Culling, because I refuse to enslave another human being and now, despite your own words, you would have me do exactly that?”

Eren groaned and knocked his forehead against Levi’s absentmindedly, “Damn you and your misplaced sense of justice. I-I am _honored_ that you would hold my esteem in such high regard. I am _honored_ that I have had such an impact on you, that in such a short time I have been able to lead you to this truth,” Eren paused, swallowing past the tightness in this throat, “but Gods, Levi, sometimes the right choice is the hardest. You are not Walling, and by bu-buying Armin, you would be saving him. You _know_ this. I promise, your conscience will remain clear, even should you do this — no, _especially_ if you do this. Please, Levi. Please.”

The Prince’s lips pursed minutely, and this close, even in the dark of the garden, Eren could see tiny flecks of blue in the grey of his eyes. “Very well, Eren. For Armin and - for you.”

“Thank you!” Without thinking, Eren threw himself around Levi in a quick, tight embrace, face tucked into the prince’s neck for one brief moment, before stepping away to hurry back to the manor. He turned back after a few steps, “Levi, come on! I told Hanji I would meet her.” Levi only blinked before striding past Eren at a pace that had the younger man nearly running to keep up with, relief a choking and profound feeling in his chest, like warm wine on the back of his tongue. 

Back on the balcony, Hanji let out a sigh, “Oh good! You found the midget!”

“Watch it, shitty-eyes.”

Eren broke in before they could devolve into their usual bickering, “Where is Armin?”

Hanji cleared their throat, “Walling has been prevented from leaving, despite his need to escape the location where he was exposed to so much shame,” Hanji sniggered once, and Eren felt a thread of amusement despite himself. “He has Armin with him.”

“So, how does this work? Is there paper-work or…” Eren trailed off at the pitying look Hanji gave him. “What?”

“None of this is documented, Eren. It’s all strictly verbal and, well, more.”

“What ‘more’?”

Hanji looked to Levi who only answered with a put upon frown, before heading back into the hall.

“Hey- wait!” Eren scurried to catch up with him, Hanji tight on his heels. “Shouldn’t we, like, come up with a plan? Or something?” 

Levi paused, and Hanji reached forward to point towards a back corner, tucked away between two pillars. A few moments later, and Eren was treated to the sight of Walling pressing Armin into a pillar, one pudgy finger tracing the stitching of the boy’s blue tunic as he whispered into his ear. 

“Remove yourself from what is mine, if you would be so kind,” Levi’s voice cut through the din of conversation and music without trouble. 

Walling turned his head, but remained insistently close, his finger continuing to tease along Armin’s collar bone. Eren swallowed back bile, and fastened his gaze with Armin’s projecting as much reassurance as possible. Armin nodded subtly, and managed to relax under the noble’s assault. “Pardon?” Walling purred. He was clearly drunk.

“That boy is mine,” Levi responded simply.

Walling blinked blearily, looking to Armin before returning his gaze to the Prince. “He is _mine_ ,” he sounded belligerent, if confused. 

“That is where you are mistaken,” Levi’s voice continued to remain cool and emotionless, though he nodded Hanji forward. 

Hanji stepped closer and reached out to wrap a hand around Armin’s bicep, giving a gentle tug. At first, it seemed Walling was going to let him go without trouble, but at the last moment he struck out with one meaty fist, finding purchase against Hanji’s shoulder, before wrapping both hands in Armin’s tunic and tugging him backwards. Eren instinctively surged forward, but Levi stopped him with a hand on his own. Gritting his teeth, Eren allowed himself to be held back. 

“You _bitch_ ,” Walling was spitting, “You turned her against me. This is all your fault! You have humiliated me!” 

Hanji’s glasses reflected the light until Eren could no longer see their eyes. They tilted their head to the side, and a in a sibilant voice asked, “Your Majesty?” Levi hummed once, almost amused, and the physician struck, to quickly than Eren could track. 

The next thing he knew, Walling was prostrate on the floor, and Armin was secure in Hanji’s arms, the young boy grasping at the diaphanous folds of their robe, face buried in their abdomen seeking comfort. Hanji gently pet the back of his head and they slowly led them back towards the others. As soon as they were close, Armin threw himself at Eren, burying his face in the taller boys neck with a shuddering breath. 

“Thank you,” Armin managed to whisper.

Before Eren could tell him that he was thanking the wrong person, though, a distinctly delicate throat clearing pulled everyone’s attention behind them to where the Duchess stood, gaze stormy. 

“What,” she began, voice like stone, “is going on here?” Her attention narrowed in on Armin who continued to cling, shivering, to Eren. Eren hoped that that wasn’t jealousy he could see sparking in her features. 

Levi was quick to step forward, “Walling. He was being a prick.”

Eren tried not to choke, but the Duchess’ expression gave way to quiet amusement. “Oh? And who is this?”

“The unfortunate intended receptor of said prick.”

“Really, Levi, how vulgar,” the Duchess chastised, but it seemed more perfunctory than anything, as she looked past the group with a wrinkle of her nose. “How odious,” she shook her head. “Why father elected to issue a writ of favor for the entire line of Wallings, I will never know. All that man’s uncle did was find the royal cat. Honestly. The thing was a nightmare, besides. Always tearing up my best stockings.” She turned back to the group with a shake of her head and a sniff.

Eren felt his forehead crinkle. “A writ of favor?” he murmured, voicing his confusion out-loud to himself. Only the King had that type of authority…Eren drew in a sharp breath, eyes snapping back to the Duchess. 

Armin, sensing his tension, finally disentangled himself. “What is it, Eren?”

Eren continued to stare at the Duchess, who had heard his question and seemed to recognize his realization. Hanji looked between the two nervously, guilt in the slump of their shoulders. Eren spared Levi a short glance, but the Prince was stiff and unreadable, and Eren returned his attention to the Duchess. Except…

“You’re not really a Duchess, are you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of his voice. 

The one in question clasped her hands behind her back, head tilted and eyes calculating. “I thought it might ease your transition, if we didn’t spring everything on you all at once. That you would appreciate the attention to your acclimatization.”

“You thought wrong,” Eren managed, without care for his tone or words, despite the truth he had just stumbled upon, despite the fact that -

“Well. In that case, let me reintroduce myself to you: I am Mikasa, Queen of Mitras, Empress of the Walls and Duchess of Sheena. And you, Eren Jãger, have been chosen to be my Titān.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!  
> I hope that made up for the wait! At least a little.  
> Postings will continue to be slow, as I return to full time school, job and internship.  
> Yowza.  
> But I really appreciate your support and love!!!  
> And don't worry -- Mikasa won't stay such a haughty, butt-head...she's just mm sheltered 'xD
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this fic, and for all your kudos and comments, it means the world to me!  
> I wish you all a Happy New Year, full of health, happiness, and safety!  
> Thank you again for your support and patience, and until next time!
> 
> xo


	12. Little Chickadee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more angst. more tears. Eren leaves the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn’t expect to see me again so soon, based on my track-record! Classes are starting so I worked really hard to get out some more content, before I lose myself to stress for the next few months. Fingers-crossed I find some time in there to keep writing, and that the next update doesn’t take too long!
> 
> NOW.  
> Prepare for some strange bastardized mythological religion! and another quasi-panic attack, so minor TW for that. 
> 
> As an aside, Eren’s name keeps autocorrecting to ERen, for some strange reason, which just makes me picture the poor kid as being perpetually confused and lost (“ERRR - what? - en”).  
> Which.  
> To be fair? I suppose he is.  
> Awe. 
> 
> Anyway, Thank you SO much for all the comments, love and support! It means so much and really drives me in my writing. Please continue to drop me comments *heart-eyes*
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new (p.long!) chappie! Thank you again!! 
> 
> x

“IN THE beginning, there was Nothing. Until the All-Father created Something. He breathed, and from that Something flamed the stars, moons, and suns. He reached out, and within those celestial bodies that He touched, the Gods and Goddesses grew and were born. Some sprung from light, others darkness; some fire, others ice; some wind, some water. 

One such world was Man’s. This world, and this one only, was blessed with all of the universe’s splendors: light _and_ dark, fire _and_ ice, wind _and_ water. So taken with Their world’s sights was Man, that They created beings in Their image, and gave them Their name. And so men came into being. 

There was another God, though, who grew jealous. His world was one of pure fire, and no life could be made to grow on its surface. Full of envy, the God reached into the heavens, plucked out a star, and swallowed it. The star sat in His belly for a long time, absorbing His destructive energy, until one day He spit it out, striking for Man’s world. The star struck true. Man’s world shuddered. And then Man’s world began to fall. Man cried out for Their world as it tumbled from the sky, begging Their Father for help, but the All-Father had not been seen or heard from for a long time. 

Taking pity on His sibling, Who’s cries grew more pained as Their world continued to plummet, a Titan Constellation reached out and, using all of His strength, caught Man’s world in the net of His Stars. These Stars hold Man’s world suspended to this day, a ceaseless labor, and can still be seen in our sky. We call Them Atlas. 

In honor of Their brother’s sacrifice, Man decreed that Their creations should celebrate Atlas’ act of love, honoring it through ceremony: just as Atlas bound Himself to Man, so too would the men of the world bind themselves to each other. Each lifetime would see man’s most worthy pair tying their fates inexorably together, and in this way, they would give thanks, always, for their salvation: man to Man; man to Atlas; God to Titan.

And so we give thanks.”

“We give thanks,” the voice of all of the nobility of Mitras echoed off of the marble walls of the capital’s greatest temple, reverberating back in a chaotic din that made it hard for Eren to breathe. 

Eren was kneeling on an alter across from Her Majesty Queen Mikasa, but beyond that he knew nothing else of his surroundings — a silk scarf was tired around his eyes, leaving him feeling even more horrifically vulnerable than usual. 

The Duchess’ revelation that she was, in fact, the Queen, had seemed rather anticlimactic at first, lacking any fanfare. Eren had quickly realized, though, that the relatively reserved way in which things had proceeded up until that point were about to drastically change — that, in comparison with what was to come, Eren would even perceive the pageantry until this point as “reserved” in the first place. 

After Mikasa’s self-made announcement, one of the nobles from the sitting area — who Eren began to realize were most likely ladies in waiting, and other accouterment “staff” — produced a crown from some unknown place. Mikasa donned the petite diadem in a quick, efficient move, but despite the lack of pomp to it, the entire hall seemed to notice and, as one, they all dropped into deep bows and curtsies the same way that they had on Mikasa’s first entry into the hall. This time, however, a voice rang out, rattling off the same list of titles she had just so nonchalantly shard with Eren: “Her Royal Majesty Mikasa the First, Queen of Mitras, Empress of the Walls, and Duchess of Sheena!” 

Evidently, the entire nobility had been in on the ruse of keeping the truth from Eren, and the young man felt like an even bigger fool for being so oblivious to what now seemed like obvious indications of Mikasa’s true status — not least of which, he realized in hindsight, were the many times people had nearly slipped their tongues when referring to the ‘Duchess,’ almost using her true name or official title. 

Eren, if it were possible, felt his seemingly ever present sense of fury, normally suppressed to simmer idly under the surface of his skin, though no less potent for its leashing, grow in intensity. He was self-aware enough, however, to realize that it stemmed in great part from a deep hurt, and a sad feeling of betrayal. 

Despite everything — their stations, the reality of the Culling itself, and even Eren’s attempts to convince his own self otherwise — the young man had thought that he and Levi had reached some kind of understanding approximating friendship… This newest disclosure of information sent those fledgling feelings up in ash. 

While Eren was still grateful to Levi for his intervention with Armin, for his no less than miraculous shift in his perspective of all things “culling” related, this was too big — too _much_ — for the prince to have left Eren ignorant on. Eren thought that they’d somehow come to recognize each other not as Expolitum and Cotidianum, prince and subject, ruler and servant, but rather as individuals outside of their ranks and circumstances. Levi’s willingness to be candid with Eren, and to allow Eren to in turn be candid with him; to speak freely, and refer to the royal by name, were extreme liberties and, Eren had thought, admissions to an unspoken respect and friendship.

But friends who respected each other didn't lie to each other. And especially not about things of this scope and magnitude. 

Eren felt sick and wrapped his arms around his stomach, eyes shuttered and focused on the ground as Mikasa addressed the nobles in the hall, thanking them for their cooperation and declaring Eren her chosen prize from the Culling, before bidding them all goodnight. A glance from the head royal indicated that Eren was to follow her as she and her squad exited the hall amidst another round of bows and curtsies, Levi, Armin, and Hanji following along as well. 

In the entryway, servants bustled about, draping scarves and wraps about the nobility’s shoulders as they readied themselves for departure.

“You are not staying the night?” Levi queried, though his gaze kept flickering to Eren. 

“I tire of delaying, cousin,” Mikasa frowned. “The sooner we return to the palace, the sooner we can complete the ceremony, and the sooner all of my blasted advisors will stop harassing me for not being fully instated on the thrown, and questioning my every move.”

“It’s an hours long carriage ride, and you only just arrived this afternoon,” Levi challenged, adding as an after thought, “And it’s dark.”

Mikasa was unimpressed. “Och, Levi — I’m being practical, for once! I would have thought that you, of all people, should appreciate my decision.”

Levi managed to transmit his severe doubt on the matter through his, as usual, largely unchanged expression, a bare lifting of one of his brows the only indicator. 

Mikasa, who Eren had pegged as also being rather stoic faced, rolled her eyes in a distinctly un-lady-like way, but one that somehow made her relation to Levi that much more obvious. “Besides,” she conceded, “I brought my destrier. I will be riding him home while the rest follow in the carriages. I’ll be back in the palace before your mindless worrying reaches any types of recognizably human proportions.” 

“Surprisingly, the idea of you galloping in the pitch black on that monster does not bring me any type of comfort,” Levi replied drily. 

“Enough, Levi,” the Queen scolded. “It is a clear night, and the moon is bright. I have my personal guard with me, and I can handle a sword nearly as well as you, though I do not foresee being set upon by enemies in the heart of my own kingdom, while directly outside of its capital. There is no danger. And, like I must constantly remind the advisors, let me remind you: you are not my governess.”

“Thank the gods for small favors,” Levi muttered. 

“I’m going to pretend that I didn't hear that,” Mikasa scoffed, though there was a smile tucked away in her words. Turning to Eren she continued, “Where are your things? I will have a servant pack them up quickly, that you might ride in one of the carriages.”

Eren shared a brief look of incredulity with Armin before answering plainly, “I have none.”

Mikasa paused in pulling on leather gloves. It seemed she would be charging back to the palace in her full formal-wear. Eren fleetingly questioned just how comfortable that could truly be. “You have nothing?” her brows pulled down. 

“I was taken from my home without warning or explanation,” Eren spoke bluntly but slowly, cautious but unwilling to soften the reality of how events played out, “it did not occur to me to pack a travel bag.” Alright, so perhaps he wasn't being as cautious as he could have been, as sarcasm bled very lightly into his words. 

Rather than take offense, however, Mikasa’s frown only depend as she glanced from Eren to Armin and back again, before quickly smoothing the unnamed emotion away. “I suppose it is of little consequence. Nothing you own would have served in the palace. Perhaps it’s better this way.” She nodded once, as if in self-affirmation, and then, much to Eren’s consternation, proceeded to pull up the skirts of her dress. 

Eren’s first instinct was to look away out of modesty, but rather than silk slippers and ribbon wrapped ankles and calves, the queen wore leather riding boots laced halfway to her knee, and which gave away little of the form of her legs, let alone a glance at more of her milky skin. A servant rushed forward to check the boots’ laces, and Mikasa impatiently batted their hands away. 

“I’m not an infant,” she grumbled, tightening the laces herself. Straightening and letting her dress settle back into place with a perfunctory dusting of her hands against each other, Mikasa addressed Eren once more, “Very well. Come along, then, boy. As you are,” before striding towards the doors. 

Eren startled, glancing around himself.

This was it. 

After the last few weeks, Eren had grown familiar with the manor and his routine there, his friends and duties. But despite how he’d grown almost comfortable, it had only ever been a place of limbo, where every move and decision had been observed and judged. And now the time had come for Eren to leave. 

Walling had forced Eren to pass through the manor’s gates in some backwards show of power and punishment. The nobles’ plans had both failed and succeeded, as Eren had not been sent home in shame as intended, but instead gained the patronage of the most elevated possible person. But while Walling was furious, Eren was frightened. Eren would have gladly gone home during the earlier judging sessions, as Walling had intended. Instead, he was being forced to serve the Queen of Mitras — the very figurehead of this whole damn Culling, and the originator of all of Eren’s current problems and woes — herself. 

Eren was angry. He was indignant, he was horrified and mortified and righteous in his rage but, most of all, Eren was scared. 

He was scared to leave the manor, his friends, and routine. He was scared of Mikasa and what she could do to him, scared to enter the strange and foreign world of the nobility. He was scared to think of his mother and how she was faring without him. But mostly, Eren was scared to realize, standing at the manor’s threshold, just how hopeless and helpless he not only felt, but he and his situation really and truly were. 

Eren had known what was coming — even if not with who. He had known he was about to enter into a life of forced servitude, in whatever capacity that meant. But he’d always managed to keep an emotional distance from the knowledge — even earlier in the garden with Levi, he’d managed to maintain a level of dissociation. 

Now, though, his coping mechanisms and constructs well and truly came crashing down.

Eren’s sight went blurry as his entire body began to shake, and those same feelings of panic that he had experienced in the garden began to flicker at the edges of his consciousness, lending his thoughts, already growing increasingly frantic, a broken and disjointed edge. 

The nobles headed towards a lines of luxurious carriages, flowing around Eren’s figure where he stood in the doorway, as he gazed out into the courtyard, unable to actually see anything past his hysteria and tears. He began to swallow convulsively as the urge to be sick tumbled through his body.

Mikasa, only knowing that Eren was taking too slow, turned in front of her mount, a giant, pure black friesian, to call that he shouldn’t dawdle. 

Eren heard her, but didn't register the actual words. Apart from the violent shaking that was spreading through his limbs, Eren couldn’t move. Terror quite literally held him frozen on the top step, and his hitching breaths began to be punctuated by small, plaintive sounds. 

Not receiving an answer, Mikasa began moving back towards the manor in a put-upon fashion, but Levi stopped her progress with an easy wave of his hand, “He’s forgotten that he does have something worth taking with him. I will accompany him to fetch it. You go ahead, Majesty — the nobles will be awhile yet, as they ready to disembark. Eren will not be hindering their departure.”

Mikasa was just far enough away that she could not see Eren’s obvious distress, and she turned back towards her mount easily. “Very well. Enjoy the rest of the night’s festivities, cousin, though I will be expecting your presence in the palace come tomorrow evening.”

“And you shall have it,” Levi inclined his head in farewell as Mikasa swung herself into the saddle. 

With one last nod, Mikasa clicked her tongue and pressed the horse into motion with her heels, a team of guards trotting out from the shadows to spread around her in a protective ring as she rode towards the gate, disappearing beyond it and into the night. 

Once Mikasa was gone from sight, Levi turned to Eren, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Eren?” he spoke softly, almost hesitantly. 

Eren managed to eek his head to one side and then the other, a jerky, wooden movement that, once completed, he couldn't stop from repeating, and then repeating again, and again, and _again_ … Eren began shaking his head back and forth with speed, a vehement denial, the only protest his overwhelmed mind and body could pathetically manage to convey. _No. No, no, no no NO_. 

“Come with me, Eren,” Levi began to gently tug Eren towards the glass doors along the far wall, the same glass doors Eren had nearly fallen through on that very first day when he initially caught Levi’s wrathful attention. Eren remained locked in the doorway, the movement of his head shakes only growing more frantic. “Eren,” Levi tried to tug Eren back, and despite the care and gentleness in his attempt to move the distressed boy, it caused something in Eren to snap.

“No!” he howled, surging forward, not sure why or where he was intending to go, only aware of the fact that he had to get away, had to run, _had_ to go, go, _go_ , somewhere, _anywhere_ , anywhere but _here_. 

Levi’s eyes widened, before his cold-faced efficiency kicked in and he reached out without hesitation to wrap Eren in his arms. Eren began to struggle in earnest, shrieks and yells of “No!” and “Let me go!” and even the occasional “Please!” tumbling and spitting from his lips in a tumultuous stream of hysteria. 

“Armin, Hanji, the doors,” Levi barked, and the physician was sprinting and slamming the doors to the hall, while Armin quickly tugged the front doors shut on the last of the nobles straggling into their carriages. Eren managed to free one of his arms, but Levi’s breath barely stuttered as a bony elbow collided with his stomach. 

Levi swiftly adjusted his grip on Eren as the brunet continue to writhe and attempt to buck his way free. Wrapping his arms lower, with Eren’s clamped between them and his own torso, Levi hefted Eren solidly into the air, bringing the youth’s feet off the ground. Eren kicked out, feet flailing and finding frequent purchase with Levi’s knees and shins as the noble proceeded to carry the still wailing boy through the glass doors and down a series of hallways until he reached his study. Hanji jogged ahead the whole time, shooing curious servants out of the way and onto other duties before they could be witness to anything. 

Once Levi stepped into the study, Hanji closed the door behind him, and the royal was quick to let Eren go, stepping back promptly, and only just narrowly avoiding a fist aimed for his face. Levi took the opportunity to grab the same fist that had just missed his nose with one hand, latching onto Eren’s elbow with the other, before using the limb as leverage to swing the boy around and into the wall. 

Eren slammed next to a bookshelf with a clatter of skull against wood, and his breath left him in a choke, cutting him off mid-yell. The pain and loss of breath jolted through him like a bolt of lightening, and his mouth opened and closed a few times soundlessly as he struggled to pull in a lungful of air. 

Hanji and Armin, both in the hall, winced at the muffled, but distinguishable sound of impact, but when Armin moved as if to enter into the study and intervene, Hanji wordlessly shook their head and lead the boy away.

Back in the study, Eren managed to wheeze in a gasp, before his knees gave out and he slowly slid down the wall before collapsing to the floor. Where before he had been so full of terror and fury he had felt fit to bursting, the violent emotions rupturing through his skin and dyeing everything red, now he felt nothing. It was as if a great vacuum had sucked the emotion from his soul with his breath, and he felt only shaky and hollow. 

Levi slowly approached Eren, eying him like he was some delicate piece of glass in need of especially careful handling — or a half-feral animal, to be approached with the utmost caution. Eren only looked up at him dully. 

“Brat,” Levi’s voice was firm but soothing, verging on a question. 

Eren could only breathe, his breath leaving him in a shaky, noisy exhale as his eyes shuttered closed, head tipped back against the wall, the point of contact throbbing dully from where it had impacted before. 

A warm hand cupped Eren’s cheek, and the boy wondered that, despite the void within him, tears still managed to fall once more. Soon, his other cheek was being cradled, and then a forehead was rocking against his own, and Eren _squeezed_ his eyes shut, trying desperately to hold onto the nothing inside him, that concave space where emotions couldn't echo and _hurt_.

“I hate you,” he sobbed, hands coming up to grip desperately in the front of Levi’s shirt. “I _hate_ you.”

Levi simply pulled Eren forward, tucking the boys face into his neck, while Eren, feeling thoroughly ruined, could only cry. 

 

x

 

Eren was unsure how long he remained with Levi, the prince’s hands firm on the back of his neck and waist, his perception of time gone rather sideways. Eventually, though, a knock sounded and Hanji’s voice, apologetic but insistent, came muffled through the door, “Levi, the nobles are ready to depart. I can’t delay them any longer, they’re quite eager to be off.”

Levi let out a long breathe through his nose, but did not move, calling back that he and Eren would be along shortly. The brunette, with one last sniffle, moved to sit up straight, but Levi continued to hold him close, and Eren’s forehead scrunched where it was hidden against the noble’s neck. With a huff, he pushed at the noble’s chest, and with one last squeeze to the boy’s nape, Levi let him go. 

Eren sat back, awkwardly scrubbing at his cheeks and avoiding eye contact. 

“Eren -“ Levi began, but the young man was having none of that. 

Scrambling to his feet, and ignoring the occasional hiccup that snuck past his defenses, Eren took a deep breath before letting it shudder out in an attempt to fully collect himself and then, in a move of pure cowardice, bolted for the door without a word, slamming it shut behind him. 

In the hall, Hanji’s look was skeptical. “Are you okay?”

“Yuh-yes. I, I just,” Eren frowned, “I don’t know what that was.”

Hanji tskd, their gaze flicking between Eren and the closed door behind him. “That was a long overdue reaction. I was wondering when reality would hit.”

Eren’s frown folded in on itself as his gaze grew critical. “Thanks,” he managed to snark.

“Would you rather I pretend otherwise? You said you wanted to know the truth, not to be lied to or coddled, and yet you managed to lie to yourself this whole time, and this is the result: All of your suppressed emotions coming to the fore.”

“You say that like it’s my fault!”

“Don’t be silly, Eren. We both know that could not be further from the truth,” Hanji scolded. “But this is the reality, and there is nothing that either you or I can do about it. You have to come to terms with that, so that you can enter into the fray with open eyes, and not be caught off guard. You have to accept this.” Their serious and frank manner surprised Eren, and though their words seemed harsh, he knew they meant well. They’d been helping to prepare him for this all along, after all. 

“I don’t have to accept my own enslavement,” he protested, but even to his own ears it sounded futile. 

Hanji only shook their head, eyes troubled, before glancing at the door once more before returning their gaze to Eren’s red-rimmed blue-greens. “Is the Prince coming?”

Eren dropped his puffy eyes to the ground, “He said to go ahead.”

Hanji was quiet a moment before stepping away with a slow, “Alright.” Eren began to follow the physician back to the entryway, casting furtive glances back at the study door until the pair turned down a hall and he lost sight of it completely. His efforts were wasted, though, as it remained firmly shut. 

_Good_ , thought Eren, rather vehemently. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the Prince — he didn’t want to even look at him. Eren had managed to cry out the majority of his emotions, and that sunken feeling within him managed to muffle the rest that remained, but his anger at the Prince’s betrayal still smoldered deep (very, very quietly beneath that, a tiny voice questioned why Hanji was not also a target for that anger, but he ruthlessly squashed it quiet. This was different).

Back in the entryway, Armin was distractedly fingering the hem of his tunic, face serious. As Eren stepped through the glass doors, the small blonde hesitated, taking in his friend’s appearance, before deeming him rational once more and flinging himself forward, wrapping his arms around Eren’s waist with unconcealed affection, and equal parts worry and relief. 

“Are you okay?” Armin’s voice was quiet and muffled against Eren’s chest. 

Eren let out his hundredth deep sigh of the night, and patted his friend’s head dotingly. “No,” he laughed, pure self-deprecation. “But I’ll get over it.” 

“This isn’t right,” Armin muttered, pulling back slightly. 

Eren just shrugged. There was nothing else he could do. 

“I will see you at the palace, Armin,” Eren squeezed his friend’s shoulders tightly, pulling him in for one more brief, but fierce, hug, before stepping away. “Hanji, you as well,” he turned to the physician to also give them a hug.

Hanji took the opportunity to whisper privately into Eren’s ear, “Go easy on him, Bean. He’s trying as best as he can in his own circumstances, too.” They stepped back and Eren frowned but didn't say anything in reply, instead simply allowing himself to be shepherded out the doors and into a waiting carriage. 

He stepped up into the coach and paused, turning to give the manor one last, lingering look. Hanji and Armin stood in its doorway, servant barely visible behind them, the doors to the hall once more opened and ladies and lords strolling about through the foyer. The manor stood gleaming in the dark, its facade bleached bone-white in the moon, the candles in the windows flickering warmly, if seemingly lonely in their silent sentinelling. Somewhere in there was Levi, but Eren turned his attention back to his two friends who waved morosely, fake smiles plastered on their faces as they attempted to transmit their false cheer to Eren. 

Eren was tempted to play along, to pretend he was simply going for a visit to somewhere, to wave and call that he’d be back soon. But look where pretending had gotten him, so far. It had stolen his reason and control, and at this point, those were the only things that Eren had left to him of himself. That and his determination — his fighter’s spirit. So he only nodded back, swinging into the coach and sitting himself down on a softly cushioned bench across from two ladies already napping on each others’ shoulders. 

A servant closed the door behind Eren with a decisive click, a moment later there was the soft snapping of the reigns, and then the carriage lurched before rolling forward. Eren clenched his hands in his lap, and refused to glance back through the window. 

Things had been changing in Eren’s life, whether he wanted them to or not. Every time Eren felt as if he had finally come to terms with those changes, the carpet was pulled out from below him once more, and he plummeted backwards, lost to his own inabilities to cope. The last few weeks had become a succession of culminations that Eren struggled against, like a small bird in a great gale, flapping against the winds, fighting nature and the powers-that-(seemingly)-be just to stay airborne. 

Eren felt like this, once more, was The moment of great change, and yet when he looked back, there were many moments he could say the same of: when he was taken from his home, when Walling forced him through the gates, when Levi singled him out, when Armin and then Hanji befriended him, his and Levi’s dance… Many moments that wove together, propelling Eren forward and into _this_ one moment which would, no doubt, only thrust him forward further into many more. Time and space did, after all, work that way, but more than that, Eren knew that it would be a long while before these moments of change would stop feeling so _huge_ — so _significant_. He wondered if he would ever feel simply still inside again, or safe, or even just content, instead of like he was being perpetually hunted. 

No, things had been changing in Eren’s life, and those changes were only going to come bigger and faster from this moment on. 

Eren sunk back onto the bench, lips raspberrying on his next sigh out, a snort following it as he closed his eyes against a strong wave of gallows-humor. “Oh gods,” he near chuckled in the quiet and dark of the rocking coach, the ladies’ polite snores the only other noise. “I am _so_ fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to move. WHOO. Next chapter will feature a lil more of the ceremony, but mostly LEVI and EREN, JA! maybe even some smut? Of a kind? Tell me you’re not as excited as I am!! (and if there is smut, I will warn in the notes, and leave details in the end notes for those of you who are not into that!)
> 
> Starting to see glimpses of Mikasa, beyond the haughty aristocrat…excited to develop her character more. 
> 
> Oh, Eren. I give him these moments of hypocrisy and weakness of character because to err is human and all that… Poor Levi. lol
> 
> No idea why I added a random umlaut into titan, changing it to Titän, other than that it looks quasi-fancy. Very official and scientific, here, in my decision making, yes. 
> 
> Anyways. Thank you, as always, for your continued support of this! I really hope you liked this past chapter! Please leave me kudos and comments, if you are willing, to cheer me on! Literally, even if it’s just a smiley in the comments, it will show me that this things IS being READ, and help remind me how much it’s worth it, when I’m struggling to write.  
> As always, feel free to leave questions, comments or concerns here, or on tumblr at [kalipeda](https://kalipeda.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Thank you again!!
> 
> xo


	13. Red String, Blue String

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren settles into the palace and is turned into soup.  
> Wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so end of last chapter I promised more Eren and Levi aaaand evidently I lied.  
> whoops.  
> I really set out to write this chapter with that in mind, but it didn't feel authentic, so instead we meet a few new (but familiar!) characters, get to know more about Eren’s new “home” and the mysterious binding…  
> but next chapter will DEFINITELY feature our boys, and this time for real, because I literally have 4 pages of smut already written.  
> You’re welcome (maybe).  
> I will tag/warn appropriately when that comes around, so for those who could do without sexy times, do not fret! (and on that note, random reference to boobies in this chapter)  
> In the meanwhile, enjoy this super long chapter (maybe my longest yet??)
> 
> please let me know what you think in the comments!! I love and appreciate every one! 
> 
> Enjoy! thanks so much, again, for reading!! and remember, you can always find me on tumblr at kalipeda! 
> 
> x

THE carriage arrived at the palace so late in the night that it was morning. Eren had to hold back from sticking his head clear out the window to take in as much of the view as possible. The coach crested a small hill, and there before him, in the gray twilight of pre-dawn, lay Mitras. Nestled against a jagged crop of snow-capped mountains at its back, the city spread into small plots of farm land to the east, but to the west — 

_“The ocean_ ,” Eren breathed, wonder struck. This far away, it was no more than a smudge on the horizon, but the young man still swore that he could hear the waves striking the shore. 

The carriage began to descend the small hill, and Eren’s attention returned to the city. He knew it would be another hour, easily, until they actually reached even the city’s outskirts — it was just so big, it gave the illusion of being closer. Not until the sun finally breached the mountains’ peaks, casting Mitras in shades of gold and peach, did the carriage really pass into the city’s edges. 

The fringes of the city were land given to cultivation, peppered with the barns and farmhouses of those who worked it. The dirt tracks used for the wagons and beasts of burden led into the city and its suburbs, diminutive wooden buildings built close to one another, peppered with the occasional square, of which some were lined with the permanent huts of market stalls. The further in those streets went, the wider and straighter they became, giving way from dirt to cobbling as the houses, too, grew taller and more expansive, made of brick and then eventually stone. These wealthier areas also had public squares, but rather than stands where people sold wares, they were adorned with fountains and small shops. 

Despite the glaring disparity between the city’s outskirts and inner districts, Eren was glad to see that even the comparatively poorer areas did not appear to be gripped by any true poverty, like he had seen at home — the entire city was clean, and seemingly well taken care of. Still, though, as the coach traveled ever inward, the houses grew wealthier, began to be built on generous plots of land, cultivated with gardens and fruit trees; the closer the carriage drew to the palace, the more affluent the living conditions became, while the outer-ring of the city had featured only leaning wooden structures built almost on top of each other, and narrow alleys. 

At one point, there was a break in buildings and a decent sized canal slithered its way westward, the street giving way to a stone bridge that passed over it. To the left and right, Eren could see the other streets also giving way to bridges. Two guards stood sentry at each, wearing polished silver armor and manning large decorative spears that were more pike, adorned with silk ribbons tied under their pointed metal heads. One of the guards nodded as the small party of carriages approached, and they trundled over the bridge without pause. From there, the road began to slope gently upwards, and the houses lining it became estates, hidden behind large gates and mature trees. 

Finally giving into his urge, Eren poked his head out the window and looked up — there, straight ahead, were a series of gold limmd spires reaching into the sky, twisting like the horns of some great creature: The palace. 

Like the spokes of a wheel, or the points of a ray, all of the streets lead to — or, perhaps more accurately, away from — the great behemoth now becoming visible from the top down. One more stretch of gardens, and then the whole thing lay before Eren. Snug against the mountainside, what had at a distance, and under the rising sun’s golden tones, blended into the summits’ sides now came to the fore. Heavy gray stone, hewn from the mountain itself, made up the outer gate, a semi-circle built into the mountain at each end. A large portcullis and drawbridge, currently raised and lowered respectively, were the only entry into the outer bailey. The carriages moved into the courtyard, bypassing the gigantic wood and wrought iron front doors of the palace’s main entry, to follow where the open area curved along the side of the keep, the main body of the castle, to its side, where full sunshine now cast the towering structure into relief, battlements and towers stark shadows against the bright blue sky. White stone and marble were carved with elaborate detail and leafed in gold. Even here, where the stables sat to the right and a guardhouse along the outer-wall to the left, mosaics peppered alcoves where small fountains burbled happily, and clinging ivy and vine twined around columns and over trellises, framing doorways and open-roofed stairs leading up to balconies and courtyards set at various levels. 

The carriage rolled to a stop with the others, and the two ladies finally snorted awake, both giving slight noises of surprise and dismay as they realized that they weren’t alone, and that their surprise companion was Eren, of all people. He tried to give them a reassuring smile, but they were quick to divert eye contact, and as soon as the doors were opened by a servant, they were tumbling out. Eren rolled his eyes, and followed more slowly. 

No longer in the stuffy interior of the coach, Eren took a deep breath of air, sifting the various scents through his mind: the leather and oil of armor and weaponry, the clean scent of hay, and the earthier musk of horse and animal waste; beyond that, the warmth of baking bread, the spice of roasting meat, and the amber of incense, all tucked into the sharp air coming off of the mountain, and the balmy heat rising from the sun-warmed stones beneath him. 

Realizing he had closed his eyes, he snapped them open to see a small knot of guards standing near to the keep itself elbowing each other conspiratorially as they took in Eren’s lone figure. Uncomfortable and unsure what to do, Eren went to take a step forward towards…somewhere…when a servant appeared at his elbow. 

“Master Eren,” the servant tipped her head forward in mild deference, “I am Krista, assistant to the Lord Chamberlain Erwin.”

Eren was momentarily confused, “The Vizier?”

“Indeed, young master, my Lord Erwin is very accomplished and carries both titles. Her Royal Majesty tasked me with seeing that you are settled,” she continued demurely with a small, but warm, smile. “If you would follow me,” she tilted her head towards a large archway, where a wall-less pathway topped by gables overgrown with pink and yellow climbing roses led towards a side-entry into the keep. The entry opened onto a decently sized foyer with cream tiled floors and colorful wall sconces, vases of roses freshly cut from the arcade they’d just passed through set on windowsills and side tables. The foyer opened both ways onto a window filled hallway that ran along the length of the courtyard outside, the bustle of the grooms and pages untacking the horses and putting them to stable visible through the gently waved and bubbled glass. 

Krista led him past the windows to the left, turning down a side-hall which brought them to a stairwell. “This is the western servant’s stair,” she informed him, primly gathering her skirts in hand before starting up. “I have a bath and less conspicuous change of clothes waiting for you. After that, I’ll show you to the kitchens where you can break your fast. I’ll give you a quick tour of the main parts of the keep, and then I’ve been given orders to deliver you to your future quarters where you will be outfitted with a new wardrobe. Alright?”

“Um. Yes?” Eren scrunched his nose while Krista smiled at him over her shoulder. He wondered what her response would have been if he’d said ‘no’.

True to her word, Krista brought him to the second floor and down another hallway that led to the servants’ wing, which was very similar to the manor’s, in set up. Krista informed Eren that most servants lived in the city and travelled to and from the castle as needed, but many still lived here, while others took advantage of the beds for rest between work. A few families had worked for the royal family for generations, and they had their own small sets of private rooms within the servants’ wing. 

Like the manor, the servants had their own bathing room and garderobe, kept at separate ends. “We’ve only the one of each, though, so the women bathe in the mornings and the men in the evenings,” Krista said, leading him into the bathroom where, despite Eren’s protestations, she “assisted” the young man in scrubbing clean, spending most of her attention on his face with a small washcloth, tutting as she gently wiped the makeup, ruined and smeared by the previous night’s tears, away. She helped him out of the tub and proceeded to rub him dry amidst further protestations, only conceding the towel to Eren when she moved towards his crotch and he growled, though she seemed generally unfazed, and mostly like she was humoring him. Krista helped Eren dress (to more protests) and combed Eren’s hair (at which point he gave up protesting), before leading him back to the stairs and down. 

Back on the main floor, Krista led Eren around the stairs and to a small alcove which resolved itself into a smaller, slightly steeper set of stairs down, that turned on themselves once before depositing them into the warm, richly scented kitchens. Various personnel darted about the place, tending the massive ovens and fireplaces lining the opposite wall where pots bubbled and pigs roasted. The wall cater-cornered to it featured large stone sinks, and shelves containing copper pots and jars took up any blank wall space, dried herbs hanging in garlands from the ceiling over the various tables and counters covered in bowls and platters, cutting boards and other various cutlery, adding to the organized chaos. 

Krista brought him to a counter in front of a smaller oven set into the far corner. “This is Bertolt, our head-baker,” she indicated a startlingly tall man only a few years older than Eren. “Call him pretty things, and he’ll make sure you never go hungry, isn't that right angel?” she addressed the now thoroughly flustered baker, who used the hem of his apron to dab at his brow as he sputtered out a protest, though no actual denial. Krista winked at Eren before sweet-talking a sausage-roll and various pastries out of Bertolt, who continued to stutter throughout the interaction. 

Krista brought Eren to a low table surrounded by stools near the stairs where a few other servants ate, watching Eren with interest. A single arched brow from Krista had them quickly turning back to their meals, though. She waited patiently while Eren ate, content to sit in silence, idly humming under her breath, chin in palm and elbow on table, wisps of blonde hair escaping her neat bun and framing her wide blue eyes as she watched Eren with a faint smile. Only once he licked the last crumbs from his fingers did Krista sit up. 

“Good?” she grinned, continuing at Eren’s nod, “Bertolt is the best kept secret in these kitchens. The rest of us are anxiously waiting for the day that the head-chef realizes just how skilled Bertolt really is, and puts him on full-time duty for the royals. It’ll be much harder to wiggle scones out of him, then.” Krista stood with a theatrical groan, and waved Eren after her as she proceeded up the scullery steps, and made her way back towards the cream colored foyer. 

“This is the Rose foyer, by the way” she indicated with a hand. “Mostly servants and lower nobility use it, but occasionally Her Majesty or her cousin, His Highness, will take it to get to the stables faster, when they are eager for a ride, rather than waiting at the front for the horses to be brought to them. Now come along!”

Krista led Eren through the narrow servant halls, which often ran parallel to the main halls, to point out the main areas of the keep without ever actually entering them. It amounted to a tour of a great many doors, though Eren was reassured that behind said doors were rooms like the great hall and buttery, the solarium and library, various sitting rooms, the throne-room and main council and conference rooms, a music and dance hall; the healing wing; the entrance hall to the guards' wing, containing the armory, barracks, training hall, as well as an outside courtyard for more training; the royal’s wing which contained the apartments for the peerage permanently in residence, as well as the Queen’s suite, and an underground spa with natural springs that Krista assured Eren were ‘simply to die for.’ 

Lastly, Krista brought Eren up a turret and outside, up a short but steep flight of stairs carved into the mountain-face itself, and up to a balcony scattered with chaise lounges and chairs, where she pointed out those same wings and their accompanying courtyards and baileys from the outside, helping Eren to orient everything inside his mind, outside of the maze of halls and passageways. 

Removed from the keep, but still within its outer gate and further inland to the east, tucked into a massive hollow carved out of the mountain side, rose another large building, austere despite how ornate it was. Various buttresses held the top-heavy structure upright, tall and narrow stained-glass windows of deep cobalt blue interspersed throughout giving the heavy building an illusion of grace. Its many domes were painted with silver and gold constellations, and topped with tall silver rods that terminated in gold and silver starbursts, dozens of points of various lengths extending out in every direction from each. 

“That is the temple,” Krista pointed, voice the most subdued it had been all morning, “where you will go tomorrow afternoon for the ceremony.”

Eren, already quiet for most of the morning, had no response to that, and once more Krista seemed content to simply keep him silent company, before declaring with barely forced cheer that it was about time she brought him to his new rooms.

Descending to a raised garden that was still on one of the upper levels, they entered into a vestibule decorated in tones of sage, with potted miniature trees — the Green foyer. Krista brought Eren down the north-eastern servant stair, there, to the back of the royals’ wing. Ducking behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry, Krista showed an astonished Eren a small hidden door that led to the servants’ hall for this wing. “It runs through the walls,” Krista smirked at his open-mouthed gape, “to allow more room for the royal apartments, and to ensure that we may come and go unseen.” She rolled her eyes at that last part, and Eren sniggered. 

Krista was down to earth, smart, funny; proud of her position, and dedicated to her work, but not unaware of the more ridiculous aspects of palace life. Eren could tell she sympathized with his situation, and was being especially kind to him because of it, but that kindness never reverted to pity, and she didn't pry or force him into conversation. She reminded him of Armin, in a lot of ways, and even Hanji, and Eren liked her quite a bit, already. 

The hidden passage was clean, if cramped, free of dust and cobwebs. Small clever slits in the wall allowed just enough light from the hall to make its way through, illuminating their way forward. Unlike the main hall it followed, the servant’s corridor had stairs and awkward switchbacks as it fit around the various doorways and suites it was made to allow service to. Krista brought Eren all the way to the beginning of the wing, where it met the main part of the keep, and down a narrow spiral staircase. The second floor was for the peerage, while the first was reserved solely for the royals. Krista explained that the first floor got more heat during the winter, as it rose through pipes connected to the underground level where the thermal spas were located, and special ducts allowed for considerable ventilation in the summer time. 

Continuing to make use of the hidden passage, Krista brought Eren back to the very end of the massive wing. By the time they got there, Eren felt slightly winded and sweaty, and wondered how the servants did this everyday while also carrying things like laundry and firewood. 

“There is no staircase at this end?” he asked, perplexed by the back and forth route they had taken. Krista informed him that it would offer too much of a security-breach, to have direct access from outside via the foyer to the Royal apartments, which Eren supposed made sense. 

The passage terminated, depositing the two into the main hall directly outside the doors to the royal suite. The doors took up the entire space of wall, as wide and tall as the hall itself, carved with animals, plants, and solar themed images, all gilt in gold and silver. A smaller door was embedded within the monstrosity, and it was that one which Krista tugged open, nodding at the pair of guards who in turn nodded her past in recognition, eyes zeroing in on Eren who skittered past quickly. 

The door opened onto a lavish sitting room, thick carpets and cushioned seating in dark reds and oranges spread throughout, fireplaces were set into both the left and right walls, and the ceiling was filigreed with mirrors, making the large room seem even more expansive. Straight ahead were another pair of doors, a smaller mirror to the ones Eren had just passed through, and which led to the private royal chambers (bathroom, garderobe, drawing room and, of course, bedroom). To the right, set into the near corner, was a simple wooden door, arched and minimally adorned with black steel pegs in the shapes of stars embedded in its surface. 

Krista lifted her hand to the crescent shaped handle, but before opening the door she turned to face Eren fully. “I know what has, and is, to happen,” her voice was soft and intense, as were her eyes locked on Eren’s. “You are about to be thrust into their world, but you come from ours. I just want you to know that if you ever need a friend, or even just company, you may call on me.”

“Why are you being so kind?” Eren couldn't help but challenge, “You don't even know me.”

Krista was silent a moment before saying, “I am not from Mitras, originally. I come from near the sea, a small coastal town dependent on fishing. When I was six, my mother passed away and my father cast me out for being a bastard. One of the inns took me in as a scullery maid, and I slept in the kitchens, earning nothing more than a place to stay and food for my belly. Eventually I fell into the wrong crowd as a means of earning actual money for myself, and when I was 12 or so, I pick-pocketed the wrong person.” Krista huffed a rueful laugh, “Erwin could have had me hung for attempted theft. Instead, he took me in as an apprentice, and I worked my way to the position of his assistant. It is an esteemed position, considering my origins — and very few here are happy to let me forget that.” She sighed. “It is not the same as for you, not nearly the same, as I came to my position in the palace voluntarily, and there are many freedoms I am afforded. But, I know what it is to be looked down on because I do not have blue blood, and I know what it is to face baseless hate and discrimination as a result of that, and I would not have you feel alone, Eren.”

Eren nodded, touched, and glad for the offer of friendship; for an ally in the palace, and one who's background seemed quite similar to his own. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder briefly, “Thank you.”

Krista blushed gently and a wide grin shown through on her features, but she simply turned back to the door and guided Eren into what was to be his new home. 

Stepping past the threshold, Eren’s mouth dropped open. 

“Not what you were expecting?” Krista teased.

Eren just shook his head. He had expected to walk in on a small, spartan space with only a bed, maybe a bookshelf or basin… Instead, he stood in a suite of rooms worthy of any of the nobility. Arched ceilings supported delicate chandeliers that threw candlelight in small rainbows across the sitting room which, like the one they had just passed through, featured deep red and orange carpets and settees, cushioned chairs and daybeds, tones of dark green and brown giving the space a more earthy feel. Potted trees stood in corners, and vines trickled up wooden support beams, some even trailing across the ceiling before entwining themselves amidst a few of the chandeliers. 

He absently ran his hand across a fur throw draped over the back of a divan as he meandered his way towards the open door of the bedroom. A massive fourposter bed, curtains tied back, sat on a raised dais, heaped with brocade pillows and blankets in dark golds and maroon. Bookshelves lined one wall, already packed full, and a casement bay window housed a wide bench filled with more cushions, and which overlooked a small garden featuring a pond. A desk and armoire, nearly as large as the bed, took up the rest of the wall space. 

Off of the bedroom was a bathroom, where a tub large enough to seat 3 or 4 adults sat sunken into the floor, dozens of sconces bearing fat beeswax candles waiting to be lit spread around it. Beyond that was the garderobe built into a small turret. 

Eren returned to the sitting room where Krista waited patiently. 

“It’s…”

“I know it is not as refined as one would expect, but the last Titän had an affinity for a bit of chaos, or so I’m told,” Krista filled in, worried by Eren’s perceived hesitance. 

“No, no,” Eren reassured, “I _like_ that. It’s…it’s _warm_.” He finally settled on a descriptor. And then, more quietly, “It’s homey.”

Krista was visibly relieved, and the same soft smile she’d aimed towards Eren so often that morning made a reappearance. “I am glad,” she hummed. 

x

Soon, a small troop of tailors and seamstresses appeared in the sitting room — in _Eren’s_ sitting room. They darted about him with measuring tapes and pins, swaths of cloth, buckles and buttons as they took various measurements and compared hues and textures against his own coloring. They all agreed that dark and warm colors, golds and coppers, would make up the majority of Eren’s new wardrobe, and then swirled out of the apartment, chattering about different cuts and designs, leaving him with the parting information that he could expect a few basic necessities by that night, and that his formalwear for the ceremony would be delivered by morning. 

The door closed, and Eren collapsed onto a sofa with a sigh, glancing around the room aimlessly. Partway into the attack of clothiers, Krista, hiding a grin at Eren’s expense, had excused herself — she had other duties she needed to attend to, but she would make sure that the afternoon and evening meals would be sent up. Eren had the rest of the day to himself, but would he please stay to his rooms? Despite the fact that she phrased it as a question, Eren knew it was not a request, and he resigned himself to a quiet afternoon. 

While he was happy to be left alone, to not have to deal with any of the nobility or curious servants, he chafed at being forcibly sequestered to his new apartments. He would have liked to explore the palace, if possible — so long as nobody saw him, and he didn’t get lost, and…okay, so he understood _why_ he was being sequestered, but he still didn’t like it. 

With another sigh, he stood and began to explore his rooms in more detail. He was still surprised by the level of quality and luxury, and was additionally startled to find multiple personal touches in the forms of small trinkets and decorations set about the place. No doubt they had been put there by the previous “titän” — maybe even those before the most recent one.

The more he thought about those who had resided in these rooms in the past, the more curious about them Eren became. Had they also been forced into the position? Or had they volunteered? How old had they been? Were they glad, maybe even proud, or, like Eren, could they see the ceremony for the charade it truly was — a sinister reinforcement of an oligarchical class structure?

Replacing a small marble statue of some kind of bird, its features rubbed smooth and nearly indistinguishable outside of a vague outline of beak and wings, Eren wandered back into his new bedroom. He headed straight for the bookshelves, absently trailing his fingers along spines as he glanced over their titles, looking for any type of organization or logic. After pulling out a few books and slowly skimming through some of their pages, he realized that they were shelved by genre: multiple shelves were dedicated to books on histories and rules of court — one book was even devoted solely to the recording of the royal family tree and its offshoots. The vast majority of shelves, however, were given over to books of poetry, of romance and mystery; various scientific journals that spoke about different lands and the cultures of the peoples, and the animals, that inhabited them. There was a whole other world arranged within the pages of the books on these shelves, and Eren knew that this was no coincidence, considering who these rooms had belonged to. 

Eren had wondered over to the window, by that point, a book of short stories in hand. He pushed the casement window open and a light breeze caught the drapes, billowing them forward. With the movement, something along the window caught his eye. The shifting of the gauzy curtains had revealed a line of carvings etched into the wall, previously hidden. Pushing the drapes completely out of the way and scooting further onto the cushioned bench, Eren squinted, sounding his way through what appeared to be the first item of a list.

“A-an-yuh. Awenyuh? Anya!” Not a list, then, or at least not in the way that Eren had vaguely suspected it was. Instead, these were names. And next to each name there was a number. As he made his way down the list, through names male and female, he realized that the numbers were years. He got to the last name, and sat back with a disbelieving huff. “Lily, 1381.” That was 75 years ago, which meant that the last person to live in these apartments had been this Lily. Eren wondered when, and how, she had died — it was unlikely she was still alive.

With a frown of concentration, he hopped back to his feet and approached the bookshelf once more, this time with a specific goal in mind. Stopping at the shelf of archives, he pulled a small pile before returning to the bench. Eren hoped that the books of genealogy and histories of the royal line would be forthcoming. 

Hours passed in which Eren slowly read his way through the texts, thumbing his way to the pages detailing the correct years as he sought any information on Lily at all. He sometimes got distracted, reading entries that often came off more as palace gossip than any type of official document, but it didn't seem to matter either way as he was unable to find a single entry about the last titän anyway. 

The only entries associated with 1381 were the coronation of the late King Fritz, and they only mentioned that, at 12 years old, he was the second youngest monarch to be crowned after King Johann who took the throne at the tender age of 6 in 1210, only to pass away 3 years later from consumption. 

With a sigh, Eren closed the cover of the last book, a riveting report on the market value prices of corn as they related to that years harvest production, and gazed out the still open window. 

He wasn’t surprised by the lack of official documentation of the titäns. But he had hoped, at least, to maybe find a note or one of their scribblings in the margins of one of the texts — an “I was here, I lived, I existed!” But the fact that the books even mentioned Fritz meant that they were updated semi-regularly, so someone must have been going through them to alter and adjust pages — that was if a titän had even left a message of any sort in the first place. 

Eren wasn’t surprised, but he was still disappointed. He gazed down on the pond, taking in the willow trailing weeping branches along one edge, blooming water lilies bright pops of purple and yellow across its center. Swans bobbed docilely, and a light breeze sent gentle ripples across the pond’s surface. 

All together, it was a lovely, tranquil scene. But as Eren idly ran his fingers along the list of names dating back hundreds of years, victims of the same set of circumstances as his own, Eren was of the abstractly decided notion that it was really rather ugly. 

x

Lunch came and went, delivered by a shy servant who refused to make eye contact. Eren retrieved the tray from where she left it in the sitting room before returning to the bench, where he continued to gaze at the beautifully ugly scene outside his window. 

x

The servant who brought dinner was slightly more curious and, when the apartment’s occupant did not immediately answer to his probing knock at the “front” door to the sitting room, he cautiously let himself in. He set the tray down on the same table that the earlier servant had, but instead of leaving, tiptoed forward towards the open bedroom door. Slowly poking his head forward, ready to jerk back at a moment’s notice, the servant froze briefly, before unawarely taking a few steps forward into the room. 

The servant had heard about the new Queen’s equally new courtesan, but as all staff were used to doing when the nobility took on lovers here and there, he had not thought much of it. That this one had seemed to kick up a bit more of a fuss about the palace suddenly made more sense. 

The Queen’s paramour had fallen asleep, propped up on the windowsill bench, and the servant boy’s eyes grew round as he took in his sleeping form. The sun was just setting, and the golden and pink light was falling across the man’s face, casting his cheekbones in high relief, highlighting the long column of his throat, and the shape of his collarbones peeking through the open top two buttons of his tunic. Even the servant boy, who only ever fantasized about Evelyn’s jiggling breasts as she scrubbed a dirty pot particularly hard, was struck by the sight: of this man, dusky and shining in the light of the setting sun, undoubtedly beautiful in his repose. 

The thought sent a shock of consternation through the boy and, turning, he quickly fled the royal apartments. Giving the guards at the outer door a jerky nod, he let himself into the servant’s hidden stair, aiming for the kitchens, all the while studiously imagining Evelyn’s no doubt perky and dusky nipples as he forcefully pushed the image of the Queen’s new plaything from his mind. No matter how pretty he was. 

x

Eren woke with a groan, and a severe crick in his neck. That’s what he got for falling asleep sitting up — something he had never thought possible, or at least within the realm of possibility, for anyone over the age of 3 and under the age of 40. Standing with a stretch, he meandered his way into the sitting room where he ate the food left there for him on a tray. Even cold it was delicious, the meat of some kind of fowl smothered in a tangy sauce and accompanied with root vegetables and thick slices of dark bread. 

Someone knocked on the door, and he got caught between standing up to open it himself and calling out that they might enter. Krista didn't wait and, pushing into the room, found him half out of his seat, his hand confusedly raised in the air as if he himself had just knocked on the door. 

“Oh,” he sat back down. “G’morning?”

“Yes, morning. How was the rest of your evening, yesterday?”

Eren shrugged his diffidence, not willing to reveal his discovery of the names no matter how fond of Krista he already was. 

She took his non answer in stride, and marched briskly into the bathroom where the sounds of rushing water soon emerged. 

“Why didn’t you just bring me here to wash, yesterday?” Eren wondered out loud. 

“They were still airing the rooms out,” Krista answered. “They’ve been empty these past months.”

“What happened to the last person to live here?” Eren couldn't hold back.

Krista paused, eyes shifting away before she replied rather stiltedly, “She died.”

Eren decided not to push the topic. 

Krista led him into the bathroom, pouring various oils into the quickly filling tub while Eren stripped and then lowered himself into it. She explained that the water was pumped up from the underground springs. 

“You will have to soak for the next hour,” she grimaced, speaking over Eren’s protests, “It’s mandated by the ceremony. Head Priest Mike’s apprentice will be along shortly to oversee the purification process.”

“Purification? Of what?”

“You.”

Eren was struck a little speechless at that, and sunk into the warm suds. 

Not long later, a young man dressed in long black robes and covered in freckles tapped on the bathroom door. “The guards let me through,” he smiled beatifically. 

“Is Jean on duty?” Krista raised a brow knowingly, but the priest’s smile only grew enigmatic. 

Turning his attention to Eren, he stepped fully into the bathroom, “I am Marco, apprentice to Head Priest Mike. You may call me Reverend Marco. I will be overseeing and guiding you as you prepare for tonight’s ceremony.”

“Will you be performing that as well?” Eren slouched further into the tub, allowing the water to lap at his chin. 

“I will be officiating, yes.”

“How is that? With you only being an apprentice and all?” Eren asked, gathering from Krista’s quiet tsk that it wasn’t exactly a polite question. He only shrugged and looked on at Marco, waiting for an answer.

Marco did answered, tone unaffected, “Because only a virgin can lead the ceremony, and Reverend Mike is in a relationship,” but the blush that rose to his cheeks belied his put on nonchalance. 

Eren held back his snort, humming his understanding instead. After all when it came down to it, he was a virgin, too, wasn't he? Actually, was that also a stipulation for the ceremony?? Eren frowned down at the water before glancing back up, “So how do we start this purification?”

“It’s already begun,” Marco explained, though he began pulling items from a bag at his side that Eren hadn't noticed before. “I gave Krista the first elements of purging, special oils which you are soaking in now.”

“Oh.” Eren thought a moment, watching as Marco circled the tub, placing seemingly random objects at regular intervals, crystals and sprigs of greenery. “And then what?”

Marco glanced up from lighting a stick of incense and smiled indulgently, “Don’t worry, Eren. This will be harmless enough, I promise.”

Over the next hour, Marco continued to sprinkle various flora and minerals into the tub until Eren felt like he had become the main ingredient of a soup. The pungent herbal scent that had begun to float up to his nose made him more dizzy than hungry, though.

Marco chanted while he sprinkled, sometimes in words Eren understood, but usually in a strange and foreign tongue, sibilant with harsh syllables, and Eren continued to feel dizzy.

“Is this normal?” he slurred at one point, but Marco merely continued chanting, throwing in yet another sprig of something green, and Eren decided he’d be best off leaning his head back against the tub’s edge and closing his eyes. 

 

Like earlier that morning, Eren startled awake, the crick in his neck having returned at the angle of using a tub as a pillow, confused because he wasn't actually in the tub anymore. He tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy and sluggish, like the water of his bath was sloshing inside his head now, almost covering the sound of continued chanting somewhere above him. He thought maybe that was what had woken him, but it was the muffled sound of raised voices behind the chanting which had done that. Despite being awake, he realized he hadn’t even opened his eyes, though, and resolved to do so…any second now. But no matter how hard he told his lids to lift, they refused to obey him, and soon Eren was pulled back under into sleep.

 

The second time that Eren woke, he was more in control of his faculties. Barely. Peeling his eyes open took a ridiculous amount of effort, and he almost closed them again as the urge to rest after such a huge exertion nearly foiled his own efforts. Mentally castigating himself as an idiot, he resolved to next get his now open eyes to also _focus_. 

A frown came to his lips, which — good, that meant he was slowly gaining back more of his ability to move! — but mostly bad, because the reason he was frowning was that the ceiling towered hundreds of feet above him. Risking that, once closed they wouldn't open so easily again, Eren blinked his eyes quickly, but the site did not change. A giant dome, the mystery ceiling soared above but, with the realization that it _was_ a dome, Eren finally grasped where he was: the temple. 

No sooner did he comprehend his location, than sound rushed in, many voices chanting, and the smell of incense, much stronger than in his bathroom. Eren fought to turn his head, but on successfully doing so decided that he wished he hadn’t. Evidently the ceremony had started, all while Eren was knocked unconscious. _How fitting_ , he thought bitterly. 

From what Eren could tell in his still paralyzed state, he was laying nose to nose with a stone step. The step led up to an alter upon which Mikasa currently knelt, facing away from Eren. Marco stood before her, arms outstretched in some form of benediction, as she bowed her head, crown absent. 

Marco finished and glanced in Eren’s direction, nodding his approval when he saw the young man’s blue-greens open and watching, if blurry. The nod also served as some sort of signal, evidently, as hands suddenly lifted Eren, quickly tying a scarf about his eyes before carrying him up the stairs, turning and depositing him onto his knees across from the Queen. 

Once Eren was settled, Marco launched into the story of Man and Atlas, voice echoing clearly throughout the large space. 

When he finished, a cacophony of voices echoing back “We give thanks,” Eren nearly wet himself. That sounded like a _lot_ of people. 

His mind erupted in a flurry of panic, but the emotion was unable to penetrate the paralysis, and his body remained frozen and unaffected, breaths deep and even, despite the way his thoughts whirled.

“Today, we follow in the footsteps of those who went before us,” Marco continued once the echoes finally died out. “We honor our Gods and, in doing so, we ensure the continued prosperity of our great kingdom. We emulate both our Creator and our Savior, and we reinforce the supremacy of our sovereignty. As Atlas served Man, so too do Cotidianum serve Expolitum. It was the Titän who bound himself to Our Maker, and it is the Cotidianum who bind themselves to us.”

Marco paused, and the nobles sounded their refrain once again, “We give thanks.”

“We give thanks,” Marco repeated, “In this, the Binding.” 

A deep and ominous silence dropped into the large space, giving Eren goosebumps. 

A scraping noise followed by a soft woosh, and the smell of burning wood filled Eren’s nose, before heat permeated against his front. Marco began chanting in that same mysterious language he had used when Eren was in the purity-soup, his voice growing louder as he intoned, a strange rumble building behind his words as the hissing edge echoed repeatedly until it seemed to sustain itself into a constant sibilate, a threat in the air that wrapped itself around Eren’s fingers and slithered its way down his throat and nose. 

All at once, the chanting stopped, though the hissing continued, and if Eren wasn't still rendered immobile he would have shuddered. 

Marco then continued, back in their native tongue, “Rise, Mikasa of Mitras.” 

A rustle as she stood.

“Look upon the face before you; do you see?”

“I see.”

“He has lowered himself before you; do you see?”

“I see.”

“He shall bind himself to you; do you see?”

“I see.”

“His will shall be yours as yours shall be his; do you see?”

“I see.”

“His welfare shall be yours as yours shall be his; do you see?”

“I see.”

“Queen Mikasa, as Servant to the All-Father and His Children, I do see that you see, and deem you worthy of this Binding. Step behind your chosen one.”

Another rustle, walking around and stopping behind Eren.

“Remove his blindfold.”

A whisper of silk, and the blindfold fell away, Eren blinking in the sudden light. He flicked his gaze around, turning his head as much as he could, but realizing gravity had helped him flop it sideways quite a bit before, so his attempt at moving it now was less than effective. Now, he could only see Marco, dressed in white robes stitched elaborately in gold; around the altar, the masses of nobility and, behind them, the Expolitum, spread throughout the temple; and directly before Eren himself, a wide but shallow metal basin in which a fire flickered blue. 

“Hold out his right hand,” Marco told Mikasa, who followed the order, grasping Eren by the elbow and lifting his arm so that his hand hung limply over the fire, close enough to the flames to be uncomfortable, but not close enough to hurt. 

“This flame,” Marco spoke slowly, a weight behind each of his words, “represents the fire of will that burned so brightly in great Atlas; the fire of His constellation shining bright in the heavens, that hold Man aloft. With this flame,” he pulled an athame from the folds of his robes, its blade a wet looking obsidian with a glinting edge, “I bind you, Eren Jäger, to the rightful ruler of Mitras — that your will be theirs, your welfare theirs, that your very soul might rest within the bosom of their heart, a fire to keep it pumping strong. Thus do I bind you; thus do we give thanks!” Marco shouted the last, and the crowds’ response was ear-splitting, their enthusiasm almost rabid as they howled and cheered their approval. 

Eren wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and clap his hands over his ears, but his attention was caught on the blade that Marco wielded. 

Taking Eren’s slack wrist in hand, Marco flipped the young man’s palm up. Then, lifting the athame high above his head, the priest suddenly brought it down in a flashing arc. Eren’s eyes _did_ flinch closed, then, and if he could have, he would have screamed. 

A tiny prick on the pad of his thumb was all he felt. His eyes snapped open in confusion, and Eren couldn’t help feeling grateful that his palm hadn't just been slashed to ribbons. As he watched, a small bead of blood bloomed from the tiny puncture wound, and Marco tilted his hand so that it rolled off of Eren’s hand, landing in the fire below with a quiet sizzle. 

Eren wasn’t particularly religious, beyond the occasional prayer (which he’d been uttering much more frequently, of late), but still he found himself waiting, breath held, for a great wind to blow or lighting to flash or _something_ , some kind of effect to mirror the spectacle of the ceremony thus far but instead…nothing. _How anti-climactic_ , he felt almost disappointed despite himself. 

A small crease appeared between Marco’s brows, the only indication that he must have been expecting something a little more lively, too, but he merely lowered Eren’s hand before stepping away and calling to the crowd, “It is finished! The binding is complete! And now — we celebrate!” The gathered broke into happy applause and slowly, the Temple began to empty as they made their way towards the many exits. 

_Anticlimactic, indeed._

Eren, _still_ frozen, could feel the continued presence of Mikasa behind him, while before him Marco watched his congregation disperse. 

Once the temple had emptied out, Eren, straining, managed to grunt. 

It was a good thing that that was all he managed to do, because he’d actually been trying to speak, and what he’d actually been trying to say was, “Fuck you.” To Marco, the the Queen, to everything and anything. 

Instead, Marco glanced down at him with a semi-apology in the shadow of his eyes, and Mikasa finally stepped away, ordering nearby guards to assist Eren to the Great Hall, to join in the celebration.

“The binding _was_ successful?” she turned a harsh gaze on Marco, who bowed low before answering.

“It might take a short amount of time to fully set in, but I am positive, Majesty. By the time you arrive in the hall, it will have settled fully.”

“I will be able to test it?”

“Yes, and I recommend that you do so, that your…dissenters,” he said the word carefully, “might bare witness to your proven supremacy.”

“Very well,” Mikasa hummed, tone thoughtful but, underneath that, bitter. “Perhaps I shall have him fetch me a drink, hm? I could use one,” she huffed, her fading voice the only indication that she was walking away. 

A snap of her fingers echoed through the now empty space with a pop, and then Eren was being lifted, two guards carrying him to follow in the Queen’s wake. 

Eren didn't know what Mikasa’s exchange with Marco had meant, beyond that it filled him with dread. 

Either way, he supposed he was about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo yeah!  
> The city, the palace, Krista, Marco, Bertholt, blink-and-you’ll-miss-him-Jean, annd believe it or not one other character ;)  
> Having read it, I hope you can see why it ended up not featuring too much of the boyos. But i’m sure you can sense why that’s about to change!!  
> also, hopefully the description of the city and castle wasn't too confusing...I was considering potentially drafting a few quick sketches to help everything make more sense. Let me know if you would like that! 
> 
> Thank you again so, so much for reading and, as usual, pleas let me know what you think below! or find me on tumblr at kalipeda!  
> You all rock!!
> 
> x


	14. Talking in Your Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get messy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI  
> Mad long chappie here for you… woo!  
> But….idk y’all. I’m worried it’s a little *too* OOC and rushed and…I’m just kinda unhappy with it and I'm not sure why, so if you could leave me some feedback on that, particularly, as to whether i need to do a major overwrite, I would really appreciate it :’) I just didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer while I hemmed and hawed 
> 
> **IMPORTANT**  
> the smut has arrived! but, if you’ve been paying attention to the plot, you know that it isn't romantic, like, at all. Still, I think I handled it really well in that it never comes off as traumatizing or straight up non-con/disturbing…it’s hard to explain without giving away, so pls, if you have any questions, drop me a comment or message me on [kalipeda](https://kalipeda.tumblr.com/) before reading.  
> BUT because I know that could still trigger some of you (and some of you just don't like smut) I will mark the section off so you can scroll past it, if you want — the actual smut isn't integral to the plot lol
> 
> Lots of notes at the bottom (including a link to a family tree, which might be helpful), as this is a v.long chapter and I had a lot of ~thoughts~ while writing (like…a lot of notes. but I hope you read them all, because as I said, ~thoughts~ which give a lot of insight imo)
> 
> OK  
> thank you SO much for all of the love and support, you all drive me forward and give me motivation, and make me so proud of my work — it’s such a lovely feeling.  
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think in comments!  
> x

EREN’S group detoured before arriving at the great hall, stopping in a side room where Eren’s austere — _pious_ — vestments were quickly swapped for flowing, hunter green robes, layered with folds of gossamer, and weighed down with stitched in rubies and garnets, and thick golden thread. The head seamstress from the day before observed as Eren, still hindered by whatever Marco had dosed him with, was dressed by servants, tutting as she adjusted how the material of the specially made clothing fell, but ultimately stepping away with a satisfied nod. With that, the guards swept forward and ushered Eren out of the room, down a side-passage, and into the hall where all of the peerage had gathered. 

The nobles of highest ranking stood about the edges of the giant room, leaving the center clear for Eren to be marched down, sandwiched between the two guards who's firm grasp on his arms keep him upright. The guards sat him on a small, delicately carved stool at the bottom of three short stairs. The stairs lead up to a dais upon which sat one of the most excessively elaborate structures Eren had ever seen, masquerading as a throne. Towering a good eight feet tall, gold, silver and platinum were woven together like cloth in some marvel of metal work and embellished with every type of precious stone imaginable. On this throne sat Eren’s new master. Next to her was a smaller seat that, despite being far simpler, was still opulent, though empty. Eren, who was happy to find that he was starting to be able to wriggle his fingers and toes again, wondered who the smaller throne belonged to. The guards retreated to either side of the dais, and a herald stepped forward. At once, the hall fell silent. 

“Presenting her royal majesty, first of her name, Empress of the Walls and Duchess of Sheena, Ruler of Mitras, the great and honorable Queen Mikasa!” the crowd of nobles curtsied and bowed as one amongst cheers and applause as Mikasa rose to her feet, a crown made of tall spires of crystal on her head, a golden staff taller than her in hand.

“My people,” her voice carried effortlessly through the hall, and the nobles fell quiet once more, “mark this day. This day, my rule is blessed by the gods themselves. With the binding of the Titän bond, my coronation is fulfilled and my supremacy made holy ordain!” The nobles cheered some more as Mikasa turned to Eren. “Eren Jäger!” she called over the noise, which lulled slightly until she continued, “You are the proof of my legitimacy of rule!” at which point it grew once more into a clamor of approval. 

Obviously pleased, Mikasa returned to her seat while a small group of musicians struck up a celebratory sounding melody in a far corner. The nobles began lining up in the center of the hall where the herald waited to announce them to step forward and pay their respects to the queen, but Mikasa ignored the growing line, instead arching a brow as Levi strode through their midst. He gave a perfunctory bow before mounting the steps and settling into the smaller throne, which answered that question. 

The prince looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it recently. 

_I don’t care_ , Eren reminded himself, telling himself to ignore the prince even as he strained to listen in on the two royals’ murmured conversation.

“Nice of you to show up,” Mikasa rebuked her cousin, obviously none to pleased. Evidently he hadn't been present during the ritual in the temple. 

“I was busy liberating a particular idiot in glasses from house-arrest. What did Hanji do?”

Mikasa sighed heavily, “They tried to stop the ceremony.”

“What?” Levi’s brows rose fractionally.

“Marco was preparing Eren, and they burst into the room, punched some of the temple staff, all the while yelling about —“ Mikasa cut herself off. 

Levi scoffed, “No need to be so secretive,” his tone was almost derisive, “Hanji told me about the supposed effects of the binding. That’s why she tried to stop it, once she found out.” 

“They did.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Levi scoffed again, “And you believe in that nonsense?” Mikasa remained stonily quiet, and Levi continued, “Cousin, Hanji I can understand, but please tell me that you, too, have not fallen for such religious superstition.”

“It’s not superstition,” Mikasa protested, “Fritz and Lily —“

Levi cut the queen off with a dismissive wave, “Those two were mad long before you and I even came into this world, and Lily especially was unstable in her obsession — when she wasn’t sequestered to her apartments. That is hardly proof.”

“Nonetheless, Levi, the lore says —“

“Says what, Mikasa? That a virgin will throw around a little vegetation, light some things on fire, recite some creepy chant, and then you’ll have yourself a puppet?”

Eren frowned. _A puppet_?

“Not a puppet,” Mikasa protested, “Someone unequivocally loyal!”

“Loyalty is earned, not bought or coerced.”

“A _follower_!”

“A slave.”

“Levi!” Mikasa grew stormy while Eren blinked. So they were talking about him. 

“Mikasa,” Levi mimicked back. “Even if such hokum were true, I refuse to believe that you would take what is already an unjust situation and disgrace it further.”

Mikasa seemed shocked. “Unjust? _Disgrace_? What nonsense are you spouting, cousin?”

Levi sunk slightly into his seat, raising his hand to briefly pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Do you not think that forcing the unwilling into servitude, with little insurance for their security and wellbeing, is already unjust? And were that servitude to extend to a literal lack of autonomy, do you not think that that would then be a disgrace of honor, at the very _least_?”

“Levi,” Mikasa’s lips pinched after a moment, “Are you feeling quite well? I’ve never heard you speak in such a foolhardy manner before. You _know_ why the binding is important for me, what it represents. Truly, are you ill?” 

Levi clunked his head on the back of his throne, “I suppose I am feeling rather ill, both at ease and heart.” Mikasa blinked at her cousin in consternation but, before she could reply, he sat up straight once more, “Forget I spoke. There is nothing for it.”

“Levi, are you quite sure?”

“Everything is wrong and there is nothing I can do about it but, otherwise, yes.”

Mikasa frowned. “You’re just teasing me now. Aren't you.”

“Yes, ‘Kasa,” Levi sounded weary, but the queen’s gaze softened at the diminutive, “I’m just teasing. I apologize for missing the ceremony, absurd as I’m sure it was.”

“Well, you’re here now, so I suppose that shall have to do,” Mikasa reached over and patted her cousin’s arm, ignoring the jibe. “Now. Despite your teasing, I _do_ believe in the binding’s powers, and if you will excuse me, it is time that I demonstrate them while I have all of my ‘advisors’ so conveniently watching, that they might finally get it through their thick skulls that I am, indeed, their queen.”

“Gods, Mikasa, such nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, Levi!” Mikasa snapped, “It’s _magic_.”

Eren, who had stopped even pretending not to outright eavesdrop, felt his mouth drop open. What kind of cultish fuckery was _this_? It was one thing to perform a creepy ritual, but it was another thing entirely to believe that that ritual was the catalyst of something legitimately supernatural. 

Crazy. All of this had been senseless, but only now did events officially qualify as being insane. And Eren was caught in the middle of it all. 

“Eren,” Mikasa called loftily, interrupting the boy’s astonished shock, “fetch me my wine.” The queen pointed to her glass, gem encrusted and closer to a chalice than the simple wooden cups the boy was used to seeing at home, or any type of glass or chalice seen in the manor or palace to date, for that matter. No doubt it had something to do with the binding ceremony.

Nervous tension zinging under his skin, Eren, almost hysterical with the absurdity of it all, didn't even think twice before muttering back, “Fetch it yourself,” his chin down and arms crossed in protest.

Levi snorted — practically a howl, coming from him — his earlier voiced misgivings having seemingly just been proven. “If you can’t command him now, how do you expect to consummate the bond later tonight?” he spoke sarcastically, the last few words especially harsh and pointed in their judgment. Eren gulped and chose to pretend he hadn’t heard the word ‘consummate.’ 

“Shut up,” Mikasa spat, defensive. “You know it takes a while for the spell to set in.”

Levi’s steel eyes glinted. “Maybe your barn cat just needs to be stroked the right way,” he continued in a drawl that barely concealed his disdain, one eyebrow raising. He hadn’t looked at Eren once, yet, but now he turned his glance on the young man, who felt himself glaring back. Levi’s following words were as much a challenge to Mikasa and her ‘spell’ as they were to Eren himself, “He is a prickly one, after all. Try ‘Eren, fetch me my wine _please_.’” 

Mikasa rolled her eyes as Eren let out a sardonic tsk and his own eye-roll but, suddenly — the young man was moving. 

Eren, still wobbly from his temporary paralysis, tried to sit back down but found that he had no control, none whatsoever, over his own body as it moved to the other side of the dais. He watched his hand reach out and grasp the chalice; he watched as his legs turned him and brought him up the stairs; he watched as his arm stretched out, delivering the chalice — not to Mikasa, but to Levi, whose look of cool, haughty collection and underlying scorn suddenly choked off. 

“That, that doesn’t make any sense,” Levi whispered, delicately taking the chalice from Eren, his face gone even whiter than its naturally pale pallor, the bruises under his eyes standing out starkly.

“Give him another order,” Mikasa said quietly, after a weighted moment of silence.

“Mikasa -“ Levi began to protest.

“ANOTHER ORDER!” Queen Mikasa snapped harshly, a vein throbbing in her temple.

Levi looked miserably at his cousin, “Yes, your Majesty,” before clearing his throat roughly. Casting about, apology in his eyes as he met the young man’s gaze, he said, oh so softly, “Eren, bring me that shield on the wall.”

Again, as if of its own volition, Eren’s body moved to obey Levi’s command, weaving past nobles and guards as it moved towards a side-wall and began to tug. The shield in question was decorative and bolted into the stone, but despite this Eren’s body kept pulling at it, the boy’s breath growing strained as the metal cut into his palms. He couldn’t even look behind him to see what was going on, could only take in the sounds of whispers and rustled gasps spreading through the gathered audience of nobles, his entire physical attention focused as it was on the shield. “Your bloody shield is not coming off of this bloody wall any bloody time soon,” Eren managed to spit out, teeth bared.

“Eren, return to your seat,” came the weak command.

Swearing under his breath the whole time, Eren’s body returned to the little stool, and he hid his bleeding hands in the material of his ostentatious robes, humiliation flooding his cheeks with warmth. 

Eren’s mind was a blank in the same way that the skies were empty before a storm heralding disaster. How was this possible? It couldn't have been. It _shouldn’t_ have been. And yet —

Levi had told Eren to do something, and Eren’s body had obeyed. He’d been powerless to stop, powerless to do anything but follow the commands given. He’d been helpless. 

Eren was so tired of feeling helpless.

He felt completely debased, robbed of his autonomy — terribly violated. It didn’t matter that all he’d been forced to do was try and pull a shield from its mounting. It didn't matter that at the onset of this — “this” being something he’d been forced into against his well, besides — he’d expected to have to follow orders he didn't want to, anyways. Because “this” _now_ didn't even allow for the _option_ of refusal, for an _illusion_ of autonomy. No, that tiny promise of self-rule that Eren had had left to him had just been brutally and efficiently crushed. 

Levi’s use of the word “puppet” now made vivid and horrible sense. 

The growing din around him barely drew Eren out of his spiral of defeat and humiliation. “Something must have gone wrong with the spell,” Levi nearly choked on the last word, his disbelief evident, but the reality of what had just happened standing as stark evidence that Marco had indeed woven a spell, and that it had indeed, evidently, worked. The prince stood facing Mikasa, “It doesn’t make any sense.” He ran his hands through his hair, visibly upset, and Eren blinked at the show of emotion in such a public setting (Eren himself felt nothing, nothing, nothing). “Marco will do the bonding spell again, and it will be fine,” Levi glanced at Eren and then quickly away. _(n o t h i n g)_

Mikasa sat slumped on the thrown, looking at the crown now held in her hands with bewilderment and, beneath that, a resigned type of sadness. “There was no mistake with the spell, Levi,” she began in a murmur which slowly grew in volume, “Eren was successfully bonded to the rightful ruler of the kingdom.” She looked up at her cousin and friend who was shaking his head in a rapidly more agitated manner, his usually unreadable face laced with mild panic. “I am not the rightful ruler—” she stood, voice loud with a strange type of defiance.

“— no. There’s no way that’s possible —”

“— _you_ are.”

The horror of Eren’s own situation, the demeaning experiences of the last weeks, rolled over him with the implications of Mikasa’s conclusion, that great revelation. And in the deathly silence that followed Levi and Mikasa’s exchange, Eren began to laugh.

 

x

 

Following Mikasa’s declaration, the entire hall erupted. Nobles clamored forward in confusion and outrage, demanding answers, shouting questions, seeking to reassure. The queen — except, was she actually the queen? — strode off the dais, barking at the guards who followed her command and surged to hold the nobles back as she swept around the platform and through a small, almost hidden door behind it, snapping for Levi and Eren to follow as she went. 

The prince — king?? — blank faced with shock, followed his cousin woodenly while Eren stayed rooted to his stool, his laughing growing in hysteria. It took the same guards as earlier lifting and dragging him after the royals to finally get his cackles to die down, but even then an occasional giggle still slipped its way past the boy’s lips. 

The guards carried Eren down the royal’s hall — yet another layer to the maze that was the palace, a path that was strictly reserved for the sovereignty to pass between main parts of the castle without coming into contact with either the servants or the lesser nobility. They followed the hall for a while to a long room dominated by an equally long table covered in maps. The walls of the room, too, had maps of the surrounding land, charts that tracked various parts of the kingdom’s armies as well as other kingdoms’. Eren realized that he was in the council room. 

At the far end of the room, Mikasa paced restlessly, occasionally glancing at the crown that now rested at the head of the table, casting rainbows across the sheafs strewn and stacked across the dark, polished wood. Levi stood nearby to the side, watching silently, having gained better control of his emotions and looking stoic once more. He spared a glance for Eren, winced, and then returned to monitoring his cousin who had begun muttering to herself under her breath, hands moving through the air with her thoughts. 

With a snort and a shrug, Eren dropped into the closest chair. Sinking low, letting his legs sprawl and folding his arms, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, determined to block everything out. 

He didn't know what to think. How to feel. 

Fury warred with dread and helplessness, fought against indignation and rebellion, railed against defeat and resignation, struggled against panic and the funny, bubbling hysteria that refused to see anything but the absurd, ridiculous, _hilarious_ irony of this catastrophe of a situation. Another snort escaped Eren, and he bit down hard on his lip. 

He was losing it. 

Eren idly wondered if he felt so calm because he’d finally cracked, or if he’d finally cracked because he felt so calm? After all, no sane person could contain all of these opposing emotions, feel them scratch and scream for dominance as they wrestled through his mind and heart, all at once, _without_ something vital collapsing under the weight of such a strain. 

This wasn’t the calm of denial that Eren had sought refuge in during his stay at the manor. And this wasn't the acceptance he had conceded to when leaving the manor. This was murky and twisted and everything and _nothing_ all at once. 

It was funny, funny, funny, and Eren was falling into something, clawing his way towards sharp teeth and a throbbing need to make it stop, fight or flight, and the idea of fight was becoming more and more insidiously appealing. 

“Eren, stop!” came the sudden command, and the boy froze, a growl working its way up his throat. “I mean — fuck — don’t freeze, but stop doing that shit.” 

Eren blinked his eyes open into thin, angry slits, but they opened wider when he realized what Levi was referring to. While lost in his dark thoughts, Eren had begun to gnaw on his thumb nail, a bite which at some point, without him realizing it, had moved to the pad of his thumb which now boasted deep impressions of Eren’s teeth, some of them dripping scarlet. Eren had fucking chewed his own hand until it bled. 

It was official, he really was losing it. 

Even Mikasa had stopped in her pacing to stare at the slightly mangled appendage, her furrowed brows a mirror to Levi’s own. Eren looked back and forth between the royals while they in turn looked between Eren and each other, but before the boy could start cackling once again, this time at the weird staring triangle that oh so perfectly mirrored the triangle of the now convoluted binding, Erwin and Hanji burst into the room. 

Erwin strode straight for Mikasa, who leant into his touch on her shoulder, while Hanji threw themselves across Eren’s lap with a cry of, “Bean!” before proceeding to sob into his lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Eren!” their voice muffled against his thigh, “I tried to stop it as soon as I found out what it really meant, I did! But I was too late, and they _arrested me_ , and now you’re —“ their words broke into messy sobs once more, and Eren clumsily patted their back, stopping quickly when he remembered not only the deep bite, but the lacerations on his palms from the shield. 

“Ow,” he mumbled, and Hanji quickly sat up, zeroing in on the injuries. Wiping away their tears, they hopped up, strode to the door, and snapped at a guard to retrieve bandages and salves before returning to Eren’s side where they tutted, examining the wounds, only raising their eyebrows at the bloody teeth marks but otherwise making no comment, until the guard quickly returned. Hanji bent their head to the task, and Eren let them, happy to have them distracted from their earlier tears and commiseration (and suspecting that they were happy for the distraction, too). Eren was a knot of emotions and thoughts already, he didn't need someone else’s sorrow and guilt compounding it, no matter how well-meaning it was. 

Meanwhile, Erwin was speaking softly to Mikasa, his tone soothing, as the royal grew noticeably more agitated. Levi stood close, listening to their exchange, but his eyes watched Hanji as they cleaned, treated, and bandaged Eren’s hands. 

All at once Mikasa swiped Erwin’s hand off her shoulder, “Enough! There’s been no mistake. And even if there was, the entire fucking patriciate witnessed that ‘mistake’ — it’s too late. This was supposed to solidify my rule, but it will have only made any doubts grow. And rightfully so.”

“Majesty—“ Erwin tried again, deep voice troubled.

“No, Erwin,” she sighed, “The spell took true — it just turns out that something else…or someone else…was not.” Eren was confused. Was not what? True? 

Hanji perked up from their crouch at Eren’s feet. Tucking away the last edge of bandage, they primly dropped a kiss onto Eren’s knuckles before standing. “Lady?” they asked, but the flash of realization in their eyes indicated that they already had an inkling of the meaning behind Mikasa’s words. 

“The spell would indicate that Levi is the rightful ruler. Except how?” When none spoke, Mikasa continued, “Fritz was my — _our_ ,” she gestured to indicate herself and Levi, “great-grandfather. My grandmother and then father never took the crown, because neither outlived Fritz, and the crown went to me once he finally died, despite Levi being older, because the right of succession follows the firstborns, and I have no older siblings.” She turned to Levi portentously, “or so it was thought.”

Erwin and Hanji were both grim-faced, having evidently caught on to what Mikasa was implying, but Levi, once more, tried to stutter out a denial, “That doesn’t even make sense, Mikasa, how could I be your sibling?”

“Stop being so obstinate, cous-“ she choked off before continuing faintly, “ _brother_.” Shaking her head once, she continued, voice slightly stronger, “Your mother and my father were always close.”

“Because they grew up together! They were cousins! But she married the younger brother, my father. I am _his_ son.”

“My father was betrothed to my mother at birth, and he resented her for it. There was no love lost between them — even at a young age, I recognized this. In the same way that I recognized how he doted on your mother to the point of impropriety, especially after her husband, your supposed father, died.”

“You go too far!” Levi growled, taking a step forward. 

“Kenny went too far!” she countered with a shout, whirling on her cousin with fire in her eyes. Levi faltered. Mikasa continued in a furious whisper, “We both pretended not to see it. The whole damn palace did. But blood will show: we are siblings, you and I, begotten of the same bastard father, but by different mothers, you before me. That you were thought the son of John, second in line for the throne, and not Kenny, is the only reason I inherited first. But the spell has revealed the truth of our parents’ infidelity all these years later.”

“My mother was not a - a _whore_ ,” Levi spit, hands fisted at his sides. 

“No, but she was an adulterer, as was my own parent. It is the only thing that makes sense.”

“The only thing that makes sense is that this stupid fucking spell went as wrong as it deserved to, vile thing that it is, subjugating another person’s will to your own — it’s, it’s _monstrous_!” 

Silence followed Levi’s outburst, Mikasa looking like she’d just been slapped. “Well then, Levi,” she finally spoke in a wavering voice, “then I guess that makes you a monster, too, because thanks to that spell, Eren is yours.” Eren felt like he’d been punched, the air leaving him all at once; he didn't _belong_ to anybody. 

Levi glared at his friend-cousin-sibling-queen for only a brief second before promptly turning on his heel and storming from the room, slamming the door behind him.

“There was no need to provoke him, majesty,” Erwin said kindly, finally settling into a chair.

“Don’t call me that,” Mikasa rubbed her temples, “not anymore. I’m not the queen, remember? We might as well get used to the idea.”

“Now who’s being obstinate?” Erwin arched one thick, blonde brow. “Do not be so brash to rush to decisions. You are really willing to abdicate the thrown so easily, after fighting so hard to sit in it?”

“Of course not, Erwin, but what else is left for me to do? After that display in the hall, the nobles will never accept me, and I would be stupid to think otherwise. Levi will _have_ to take the thrown, whether he wants to or not.”

“Mikasa, be logical,” Erwin protested, sitting forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped tightly, “you have spent _years_ preparing for this. The crown has been your life’s goal, and you have worked and studied to rule Mitras. Do not throw it all away. Levi is my friend, and my prince, but do not let him take what is deservingly yours.”

“Levi is just as accomplished as I am — if not more. Loathe as I am to admit it, and I will never say this to his face, in many ways he is more suited to wear the crown than I am, you and I both know this, let’s not pretend otherwise,” she dry scrubbed her face. “Besides, he has the _right_ to the thrown — it’s being given to him — he isn’t _taking_ anything. In fact, the only person taking something will be me.”

“Taking what?” Erwin sat back, lips turned down in suspicion. 

Mikasa smiled, a sharp, bitter grin, “You. Or, more specifically, your job. One of them, at least. As you mentioned, I didn’t spend my entire child and young-adulthood studying just to put it to waste. So, say hello to your new vizier.”

Hanji’s laughter pealed out above the childishly delighted sound of their clapping. 

Naturally Erwin burst into protestation, but Mikasa cut the man off with a terse, “Later” before dismissing Eren, who had been forgotten in his seat, to his rooms. Considering the enormity of everything that had just happened/been revealed, it seemed a rather anti-climactic end to his day. 

Not that Eren was complaining. 

If anything, he was eager to escape to the quiet and solitude of his room. To the oblivion of sleep. 

His wishful thoughts had been premature, however, because no sooner had he been dropped off in his sitting room by the guards — the sandy-haired, horse-faced one being especially snide — then it was slamming back open behind him. Eren whirled at the threshold of his bedroom as the same people he’d just left in the council room, along with a resentful looking Levi and hand-wringing Marco, came pouring in to what suddenly felt like a much smaller space, with so many extra bodies filling it.

“Yes?” Eren asked indistinctly, unsure what had happened _now_ , his body feeling like it was made of lead with how much he desperately wanted to just _sleep_. 

“The reverend found us just after you left. He has some pressing news, evidently,” Hanji supplied, “but it’s delicate enough of a subject that he only wanted to share it the once.”

“So here you all are,” Eren finished absently, taking in Mikasa’s impatience; Erwin’s barely concealed anger from just being told he’d be losing his post; Marco’s hesitance; Hanji’s naked curiosity; and, lastly, Levi’s icy fury, crackling in his tightly controlled movements. “Well?” Eren prompted when none spoke, his impatience and wish to have nothing more to do with the day erasing any discretion. 

“Yes, Reverend, you have us all here as requested, do tell,” Mikasa spoke coldly. Eren wondered if some of her bitterness stemmed from the fact that — even if the spell was, evidently, “correct” — Marco had been the one to cast it to such distressing results. 

“Well it’s, it’s really a very — that is, it’s quite a delicate matter, majesty,” he spoke to Mikasa before turning to Levi with a scrunched expression, “Majesty?”

Levi threw his hands in the air before pacing away to stand in front of the fire, glaring into its dying embers. 

Marco looked lost for a second, not sure who he was supposed to be reporting to, and finally just settled on Erwin. “It’s about, er, tonight,” the priest began to blush, and Eren got a funny feeling. It took Erwin’s patient prompting to get Marco to continue, “After the, um, incident in the hall…” Marco glanced at Mikasa nervously before rushing on, “I went to re-read the ancient texts. I had hoped to find more information on the spell, if perhaps it’s reversible.”

“Good thinking!” Hanji beamed, “Did you have any luck?”

“Well, no.”

“Oh,” Hanji shared a glum look with Eren while Levi heaved an angry sigh, his attention still firmly on the dead fire. 

“But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about,” Marco grimaced, the blush returning.

“Spit it out, already,” Mikasa rolled her eyes, and Eren silently agreed. 

“Theconsummationisreal!” Marco groaned, tugging at his already straight robes. 

“Come again?” Hanji tilted their head to the side.

“Perhaps slower,” Erwin suggested, not unkindly. 

“The texts mentioned the night of the binding, how the bound could c-consummate the bond, and how it would draw their spirits closer together, if they did.”

Eren and Hanji stiffened, hearing about the concept for the first time, while the others barely reacted. They had all been aware of the ‘consummation’ already. Levi’s snide remark in the hall came back to Eren. The royal had been obviously disapproving, but still — just one more important thing he had held back from telling Eren. The boy threw a glance the royal’s way. 

“Mikasa elected to forego that particular step, unless her Titän — that is, you, Eren — were willing,” Marco continued. 

“No, no way in hell,” Eren grit out, returning his attention. A shadow crossed Mikasa’s face before clearing to almost the same level of stoicism that Levi usually projected. 

“Yes, well, things might not quite exactly be so simple anymore,” Marco’s voice was an apology. 

“Enough with the evasions, Marco!” Levi finally seemed to have had enough, turning back to the group with his arms folded tight across his chest. 

“There was a mistranslation,” the words came out feebly.

“No!” Hanji sounded scandalized, but happy to be so.

Nodding, Marco finally explained, “The scholars read the passage about the consummation as ‘sie _können_ sich tiefer miteinander verbinden’ — ‘they _can_ bind each other together more deeply.’ But I looked at the passage myself, today, and that’s not what it says. It says ‘sie _müssen_ sich tiefer miteinander verbinden’ — ‘they _must_.’”

Mikasa anxiously glanced at Levi, who had frozen, “So the semantics were a bit off. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means _everything_!” Marco exclaimed wildly, tugging his hair with both hands as he continued, “The ancient texts are in a language I can speak, through years of study, but the spell itself is from a scroll far older — from the beginning times. That language is lost to us — I do not speak it, none of us do. I simply recited it, according to what the texts said about pronunciation and meaning. But if even the texts were mistranslated, that means the spell is definitely different than what we thought. In a spell like that, the tiniest change can have a rippling effect. A change in auxiliary words like this completely changes the intention of the spell from discretionary to compulsory!” the priest finished in a rush.

Nobody spoke for a long minute.

“What -“ Eren stepped forward, swallowing thickly, “and what does that mean?”

Hanji whispered a heartbroken, “Oh, Eren,” while Levi scrubbed his hand over his mouth. 

Eren repeated the question, “What does that _mean_?” his voice threaded through with an angry misery. Eren wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He just needed it confirmed, some sick, morbid validation that things — already gone from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’ — had just gone to _‘worst._ ’

Marco dropped his hands, studying his fingers as they knotted and unknotted with each other. “Head Priest Mike and I think that it will manifest as an urge, some type of compulsion,” he sidestepped the question, but Eren was persistent. 

“ _What_ will manifest?”

Marco turned to Mikasa imploringly, “Please don't make me say it.”

The royal, looking shaken, turned to Eren in the priest’s stead, “The consummation,” she cleared her throat, “the need to carry it out.”

Eren looked from face to face, eyebrows raised, waiting for someone to tell him that this was all a joke, that he hadn’t just been told a magic spell would be forcing him to have sex with - with _him_ — but nobody was smiling. Everyone in the room looked grim and serious, Hanji sad. Levi quietly furious. 

Eren barked out a laugh, a hoarse and vicious sounding thing. He shook his head. And then he turned and walked calmly into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him with a resounding _crack_. 

x

“Fuck off!” Eren threw one of his shoes at the door before burying his face back in his stupid soft pillow. The knocking stopped, but he could hear the murmured exchange continue on the other side, voices growing heated before someone else shushed them and they returned to a lower volume. 

Eren could have cared less. 

He’d just been told he would be forced to consummate the bond with Levi. 

_Consummate_ with _Levi_.

Eren felt hot and tangled up inside, and not in any pleasant ways. Levi and he had only just barely formed a friendship, that had just as abruptly crumbled away under the stress and upheaval of the Culling. Eren couldn't even imagine doing - having - making - _ugh!_ The young man scolded himself internally, _I’m not a child, I can say it…or at least think it. Sex. Sexsexsexsexsex. With - oh gods._ With a whimper and groan, Eren rolled himself deeper into the blankets, hiding under the pillows. 

The sound of the door snicking open had Eren popping up and nearly toppling over the edge of the bed, tangled up as he was, hair sticking up in all directions.

“Hey!” he protested, “That was locked!” 

“And now it’s open,” Mikasa’s smile was anything but sweet, and Eren shrunk down in his cocoon of bedding. She stepped into the room, but paused just over the entryway. “You..need to discuss this, Eren,” she had the good grace to look apologetic, though Eren knew that no actual apology would be forthcoming. 

“You need to fuck off!” he snapped, throwing himself back into the bed.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Mikasa gasped, “Do you know who I am!”

“Certainly not the queen, anymore,” Eren snarked snidely. When silence was the only response, he peeked over his shoulder nervously. Mikasa was staring at her hands, held out palms up in front of her, lost to her thoughts. 

She nodded woodenly. “No. I am not.” Eren hesitantly sat up again. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You were supposed to be mine — a symbol to shut down any who doubted my rule. But you’ve done quite the opposite, haven't you?” 

She chuckled a humorless laugh when Eren was silent, continuing on more quietly, finally glancing up from her hands to lock eyes with Eren, “I knew it was not right. The binding. But I didn’t care, so long as it secured the thrown for me. Levi saw it truly, in the beginning. That it was wrong. But he has always ever been loyal, and with Erwin’s help, I convinced him that it was necessary, acceptable — expected, even. And once I convinced him that I would give my chosen Titän as much freedom as possible, he went along with it, for my sake. 

I corrupted him. 

And now this —“ Mikasa cut herself off with a sharp breath before continuing, “I realize this is hard to believe, seeing the wealth and opportunities we have been given in life, but growing up in the palace was not always easy. Especially for Levi. His father…well. Now, I suspect that John always knew that Levi wasn't his. And it showed in how he treated him, as a boy… He was not a kind father, Eren. Levi’s childhood was difficult. Every decision was made for him and his days were completely controlled by John, mentally and…physically.” Eren’s heart hurt at the idea of Levi being beaten as a child. “I think that is why Levi was so against the culling and binding, in the beginning. And then when he met you, he was reminded of that initial sense of wrongness. But he also saw a boy who was smart and funny, quick and capable, and trapped by his circumstances. That’s how he described you to me. You reminded him of himself, in many ways, did you know that?” Mikasa smiled sadly. She had come further into the room, and stood near the window, looking out at the pond. 

“He told me why he picked you, for this. As much as it pained him, to put you into this position — as much as he fought his own decision, and then my acceptance of it: he wanted more for you, and this was the only way he could think to give it to you. I had guaranteed him that my Titän would have their freedom, so he thought that, once things calmed down, you would settle into a life full of opportunity, even as cotidianum. But instead, it’s come to this.” 

Sighing, she plopped onto the window bench. “I tell you this because I see your anger for Levi. But I also saw how you two danced, that night. He is very fond of you, Eren, and you, in turn, of him, I think. And the fact that his attempt to make a bad situation good has failed so miserably — that it is _your_ life that has been so affected? Well. John was always hard on Levi, but nobody is harder on Levi than himself.”

“So why isn't Levi telling me this?” Eren asked grudgingly. 

“Because he’s too busy mentally flogging himself in the other room. He has been this whole time. I don’t think he’s slept since the manor, and I haven’t seen him eat since then, either.” She let out another sigh. “Look, Eren, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, or to ask for your forgiveness. I know you are angry, and rightfully so. But this isn’t Levi’s doing — it’s mine. Levi might be a noble, but this is affecting him, too. For gods’ sakes, he’s just found out he’s king! Everything he fought against as a boy, being forced onto his shoulders…This is affecting him, too,” she repeated.

“Oh, so he has to follow every one of my commands as well?” Eren sniffed sarcastically, cutting to the chase. 

Mikasa pinched her lips before continuing slowly, “No. But do you honestly think him capable of using them on you?”

She had Eren there. Mostly. He still had his doubts… Levi was Expolitum, after all. It was in their very nature to take as they saw fit, it seemed. Case in point: Eren, Titän (and Armin, and every other boy snatched forever away from their homes). 

“I’m worried about him, Eren. About what I have done to him, through this. So I’m asking you to please just talk to him. If not to set aside your differences, then to at least discuss tonight.”

“Easy for you to say!” Eren interrupted.

“Yes, it is,” Mikasa frowned, and Eren’s mouth clacked shut audibly. “I am not stupid. And I am not so horrible a person as to be unable to admit when I have done a great wrong. This isn't an excuse, but you must understand that I did this all for the crown — I wasn’t thinking beyond securing my position. And I’ve hurt my closest family along the way. I was blind. And now I’ve gotten you tangled up in this mess…” she trailed off. 

Eren swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood, letting the blankets fall around him. “Let me ask you this,” he placed his hands on his hips, “If the binding _had_ gone through with you and not Levi, would you be so regretful? Would you still be able to admit that forcing me into this position was and is wrong?” 

Mikasa looked down at her clasped hands, picking at a nail without answering. Her guilt and shame was projected clearly through her silence.

“I didn't think so,” Eren shook his head in contempt before walking away.

“Eren?” Mikasa stood halfway, arm outstretched as if to stop him.

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed, “I’ll talk to Levi. But not because you asked me to, though you are right: he’s as much of a victim of your machinations as I am — he didn’t want this loathsome bond, either.”

“Thank you, Eren,” Mikasa stuttered the words as if they were difficult to get out. For all Eren knew, they probably were. Why would a princess ever have to express thanks, when she was given everything? (Part of Eren knew that that wasn’t quite true — that Mikasa had worked hard and managed a lot of opposition, but it paled in comparison to what Eren was facing.)

“Don’t thank me!” Eren almost snarled, denying her guilt driven gratitude. She deserved to feel guilty. “I don’t want your _thanks_ — I don't want _anything_ from you. You’ve done enough.” 

Leaving Mikasa, pale and shaken, in his room, Eren strode into the sitting room in a rush before his anger fueled courage could desert him. “Out!” he snapped, “Everyone but Levi.”

Erwin and Hanji exchanged looks with raised brows, but otherwise left without a fuss, Hanji stopping to place a small pot of salve in Eren’s hands with instructions to reapply it to his hands in the morning after washing. The door closed behind them and he waited, arms crossed and foot tapping, for Mikasa to slowly drag her way from the bedroom and to the door. 

She paused with her hand on the knob, mouth opening to say something, but Eren dismissed her with a pointed “Goodnight!” the surprise that she actually listened and left without comment faintly registering in the back of his mind. “Marco,” he said sweetly, and the priest who had dithered in a far corner heard the threat loud and clear and left with a hurried ‘good luck’ that came out more of a question than anything, really. 

Levi was still keeping vigil at the fire, though his quarry was nothing but cold ash. Eren was sure there was a metaphor hidden in their somewhere. 

Eren, still running on ‘angry,’ with his entire host of fluctuating emotions as additional fuel to the fire, decided it would be a wonderful idea to march over to the royal and push him. 

So he did. 

Said royal did not move.

Levi deigned to look up from the grate, casting his heavy gaze sideways with brows raised, a silent ‘really?’ in his eyes. 

Eren, not to be deterred, took a bracing step back before surging forward with another push. 

Still unimpressed, Levi finally turned to fully face him. “Eren —“

“What?” the young boy grinned, a sharp and pointy thing, head tilting to the side, “Were you going to tell me stop?”

Levi swallowed, but didn't break eye contact. “I was going to ask you what the hell you think you’re doing.”

Rather than be thrown off by the statement, Eren took it as an opening. “This!” he answered, before proceeding to shove and push and punch at Levi’s chest ineffectually. 

A long minute passed by where Levi simply let Eren vent out his rage, a frenzied flurry of halfhearted attacks that didn't even make the royal blink. But as quickly as the frustrated rage had risen, it then died away, leaving Eren bent forward at the waist, panting. 

A light press; Levi had taken the barest step forward, creating the smallest point of contact where Eren’s head barely brushed his chest. 

Eren scrunched his eyes shut. It wasn’t fair. How could he be so angry at Levi, so full of hostility, and yet take comfort from his touch, even a touch as insignificant as this one?

“I really am a cat,” the boy muttered, not moving away. 

Levi ‘hmm’d under his breath. “I am sorry for that display, Eren,” he spoke quietly, “I never believed the spell was _real_ — who the fuck would? And I let my frustration at your anger with me affect my actions and what I said. I humiliated you. You have every right to be angry with me — to still be angry with me. And now — now this.” It was Levi who stepped away, at the reminder of the binding. 

Eren stood up straight, thinking. Levi _had_ humiliated him in the great hall, going along with Mikasa, calling Eren a barn cat, joking about the consummation — even if the royal hadn’t known it was real, had as much been calling out Mikasa for allowing the events to go forward, as he was poking at Eren (jabbing). But, if Eren was being honest with himself — which, when was the last time he’d managed that? — they had greater concerns than Levi being a royal bastard. (Eren winced. Because they’d all just found out that Levi _literally_ was a royal bastard — a king of one, in fact.)

Both Eren and Levi were being thrust into roles they did not want. 

Eren reminded himself of this (even if his position was, inarguably, much worse); tried to let cooler heads prevail because — the binding, the consummation, _tonight_. Eren would be behaving willfully stupidly if he denied that Levi was also upset over their situation; in this, at least, they seemed united on some level. (And if Eren was continuing to be impartial, qualifying that statement with an ‘at least’ was not exactly gracious: Levi agreed with Eren about most aspects of the culling, acknowledged that it wasn’t right, that there was a lot of injustice in the social system…but Eren decided he’d been impartial enough, and he was still too angry at Levi to be quite that gracious just yet.) 

Still.

“Levi,” the young man mumbled. The prince stood facing away, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. “ _Levi_.” The man finally turned. “I’m not saying it’s okay, the way you behaved, but we’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

“But I-“

“ _Later_ , Levi. There’s only so much I can handle at once. And tonight…” now it was Eren’s turn to turn away with a heavy swallow. A pregnant pause. “I won’t,” Eren clenched his hands at his sides, nodding to himself. “I don't — I don't want this, Levi. I’ve never even —“ he cut himself off with a grimace. 

“Of course, Eren, I promise” Levi stepped up next to him. “I would never - not to _any_ body - it’s not - it’s not right.”

“Not everyone would agree with you.”

“They should,” the royal almost growled, pacing away. Eren’s agreement was silent. 

“Did Marco - do - do they know how things will…happen?” he ventured, cringing. 

“No,” Levi flicked at the leaf of one of the climbing vines dismissively. “They know less than shit. Except how it will manifest.” He plucked the leaf and crumpled it in his palm. 

“A _compulsion_ ,” Eren choked on the words, bitter as gal. “Will we both feel it? Just me? Certainly not just you.” Eren’s teeth began to chatter. 

Levi was quick to approach the young man, pulling a blanket from the back of one of the settees and wrapping it around the brunette’s shoulders in a businesslike manner, tugging him down into an armchair. Eren clutched the blanket closed as Levi kneeled down near his feet, looking up at Eren seriously, “I _promise_ , Eren, that I will not allow it to come to that.”

“But _how,_ Levi?”

“I know this is a lot to ask, but you’re just going to have to trust me,” Levi urged evenly.

Eren’s next question was almost sardonic, a softly repeated, “How?”

Levi sat back heavily on his heels, shoulders curved. “I have done much wrong by you. I’ve fucked up. And it doesn't help that I am…what I am. A noble. A prince. Now a _king_. But I am not a bad person, Eren,” his eyes flashed with a righteous indignation. “Hate me for what I have done, but not for who I am. Don’t hold against me, my rank and position, what I have had as little power to control in life as you. I was born into this fucked up world just like you. And I’ve done my best to be a good person in it — have fought and even bled,” a shadow crossed his face. “I know that the way the cotidianum are thought of and treated by expolitum isn't right, and that those ideas are unfounded, or at least founded in falsehood — I know you’re not stupid or in any way less capable than any of my peers. I’ve learned and changed. I try to keep doing so — you’ve helped me in many ways. But just as I am working on overcoming those stereotypes and prejudices, to the best of my ability, you need to work on your own. I sure as fuck am not perfect and I hate to break it to you, but neither are you. But you know what? That’s okay. Because we’re not shit-heads. We sometimes get our heads stuck up our asses, sure, but we find our ways out eventually, the decent folks. But when it comes to this, I think you’ve still got some shit stuck in your eye or something, because you refuse to see me as anything but a Sir Walling, and that’s really fucking unfair, Eren.”

Levi sighed again, “And I know it’s unfair of me to talk to _you_ of all people about what is and isn't fair but —“ he ran is hands through his hair for the umpteenth time, ‘— I’m doing my best here, Eren. I’m trying to do my best by you, and this mess I helped get you in. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m just asking you to acknowledge that I only wish for the best for you, and if nothing else, to trust that I have your best interests at heart.”

Eren had looked off to the side partway through Levi’s appeal; the nobles gaze, normally so remote, was focused on Eren with such vehemence that Eren found himself unable to hold it for long. He continued to look into the middle distance, hands a knot in his lap. 

“I know. I _know_ , Levi. Up here,” he lifted one hand to tap at his temple with a finger. “But here?” he brought the hand down to hover over his sternum, letting out a slow and shaky exhale, “Things are much more messy. But…I am trying. If for nothing else than the sake of my own sanity, I _am_. I know you’re not to blame for all of, or even most, of this. I know that you are trying, too. But it’s hard, Levi,” he whispered, looking back to the raven, “it’s really hard. I - I’m so lost, and I have _nothing,_ and I miss being friends with you,” his breath hitched, “— so much. But I look at you and all I can think of is what’s been done to me — what I’ve been forced into. And it hurts, Levi. It really hurts.” A tear slipped down Eren’s cheek, and he wiped it away aggressively, angry for acting so weak, but tired of holding it all in. 

“Then just keep trying — just keep trying, and try and trust me,” Levi hovered his hands over Eren’s knees. “Can you just try?”

Eren licked his lips looking away, but his gaze was inexorably drawn back to Levi’s. Letting out a nervous shudder of breath the young man nodded jerkily, his voice coming out low and scratchy, “I can try.”

x

After Eren spoke with Levi, the two agreed that they should try to pass the night apart, that the distance would help to dilute the effect of the binding’s consummation. Except that as soon as Levi stepped out of the room, Eren was following after him, a sharp tugging sensation hooked behind his belly forcing him to not let the royal out of his sight. After a few failed attempts of quickly slamming and locking the door behind the retreating raven’s back, in which Eren’s body responded by attempting to simply walk through the door itself, resulting in some lovely bruising, they realized that the spell was operating much more invasively than initially suspected. 

They consulted with Marco, Hanji, and Erwin once more — Mikasa was off doing who knew what — and it was eventually agreed upon that Levi and Eren would have to risk spending the night in each other’s company, and hope that their wills were strong enough to resist any urges. 

Eren was quick to say that he wanted to stay in his apartments — they already felt like his, like some type of home and security, and he was loathe to leave them, feeling so vulnerable as he was. 

And so dinner was delivered to the sitting room, a shorter boy with close cropped hair edging nervously through the room, shooting Eren (not so) covert glances before scurrying away. Eren and Levi ate silently, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, waiting for the inevitable. 

_______  
XXXX  
SMUT  
XXXX  
———

 

Hot. Eren felt so warm that perspiration began gathering on his lip, in the curve of his spine. A tingling was starting to spread through his joints, too, that had him pacing restlessly. 

He could fight this. If this restless unease was to be the only symptom, he could endure it. There was no way that he would give in to…that. 

Eren’s attention jerked of its own accord to where Levi sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, now lit once more, arms crossed, gaze trained on the flames, foot tapping restlessly. Eren tore his eyes away, swallowing thickly, reminding himself that he could trust Levi. That it wouldn't even come to that — he could resist the binding. He just had to wait things out.

Except, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the heat coursing through Eren and making him sweat seemed to begin to thicken and coalesce. He was dripping, it seemed, hair soaked and lungs tight, but despite the fact that he was drenched, his mouth felt scorched dry. Every time he swallowed it clicked with the lack of moisture while, meanwhile, sweat trickled into his eyes, stinging, tickling down his chin. He felt like he was drowning and withering at the same time, the heat a constant weight strangling about his neck and, struck with a sudden feeling of claustrophobia, he began to tear himself free from his elaborate robes. Levi shot him a complicated look, but Eren still wore a thin shirt and undershorts beneath his robes, and everything was too hot, too _close_ for him to worry about impropriety as he eagerly sought the feel of cold air against his skin. 

Finally free of his robes, he let out a sigh of satisfaction only to realize…he actually felt worse. Eren shook his head dumbly, brow furrowing, as he used both hands to shove damp hair from his face. He was panting, though he didn’t know why, as that heat wrapped around his very bones, making his body _ache_. He needed the heat to leave, the driving force pounding through his blood in tune with his heart and making his thoughts fuzzy, mouth dry. Stumbling aimlessly, lost to the wracking sensations his body had become, he came to a wild halt when something blissfully cool touched his elbow, soothing like aloe on a burn. Looking down, he saw that Levi was resting his hand there, face one of concern, and Eren somehow knew with certainty that the heat was something that only Levi could douse. 

Eren threw himself at the royal, not even sure at first what he was seeking other than more contact with that wonderfully cool touch, wrapping his arms tight around Levi’s shoulders and burying his face in the royal’s neck, sighing breathily at the relief it brought him. Levi didn't even stumble under the sudden weight, but he let out a dismayed huff.

“Eren?” he sounded worried, but Eren’s name on the royal’s lips _did_ something to the young man. Eren let out a moan, tongue darting out to lick his own lips and accidentally catching on Levi’s neck.

That’s when shit really went sideways.

The nebulous but potent heat that had been twisting Eren into a sweaty mess suddenly burst into flame, transforming into a clear _need._ “Levi!” Eren gasped, latching onto the prince’s neck with his lips and tongue as his cock grew instantly and painfully erect. 

Levi quickly dislodged Eren, retreating back a few steps, hands held out warningly. “Eren, stop,” he spoke firmly, but Eren only heard his name, only saw the faint trail of his own spit shining on the milky column of Levi’s neck — it didn't even occur to him that his compulsion to follow orders was not effecting him in the moment. 

Eren groaned again and thrust his hand down his smallpants, uncaring of what Levi would think, only knowing that his dick was so hard it hurt. Panting, he palmed himself with one hand and used the other to pull off his shirt, plastered against his chest with sweat like a second skin. Once the shirt was off, he quickly stepped out of his shorts, giving himself more room to pump his fist. 

At first, it seemed to work. Head thrown back, eyes shut and mouth hanging open, he shamelessly fucked his hand, the bandages adding a delicious friction, and the heat gathered low in his stomach, the building sense of pleasure promising release and relief from the stabbing need singing through his body. But as the minutes ticked by and his jerking-off grew more frantic, the tightening of his belly seemed to only knot in on itself, and soon Eren was on the floor, curled desperately over his knees as he worked himself raw. 

It wasn't enough, and the realization had a sob escaping Eren’s throat. He _hurt._ Eren glanced around blearily, looking for something to help, anything, any — Levi. _Him, him, only him_ , his body seemed to say, and Eren crawled forward with a pathetic, “ _Please._ ” 

Levi, eyes wide and shoulders stiff, backed away. It was a testament to how shocked and out of his element he was that he forgot about the couch behind him until it knocked into the backs of his knees, sending him sprawling back onto it. Eren, even half mad with his unnatural lust, was smart enough to take the opportunity, and sprung up to straddle the momentarily caught-off-guard prince. 

“Please, Levi,” he begged, mouthing along the prince’s jaw, “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“You don’t want this, Eren. You said you didn’t want this,” Levi closed his eyes and tilted his head away from the onslaught, hands tight on Eren’s shoulders to keep him from thrusting his erection against Levi’s stomach. 

“I do!” Eren protested, “I do, I do, I _need_ this. _Please_ , Levi, please give it to me.” Levi’s grip on Eren’s shoulders grew tighter, but it only drew another moan from the frenzied brunette. 

Mad with the need to have Levi’s hand on his dick, Eren desperately switched tactics, not even pausing to consider whether what he was doing was fair. “Levi it _hurts_. I don’t want to hurt anymore, why do you keep hurting me? Why do you keep letting bad things happen to me? Do you want me to hurt? Don’t you want it to stop?? Please make it stop!” In a fit, he tugged fiercely at the raven’s collar, buttons popping as he revealed a pale shoulder which he bit into almost viciously before devolving into a wretched, sobbing mess, hand returning to uselessly pull at his erection. “Puh-please, Levi, I _n-n-need_ you, just give me wuh-what I neeeed.”

Just as Eren’s animalistic thoughts were gearing up to take brasher actions, he was flipped. With a growl, Levi had thrown Eren onto his back, hovering over the momentarily stunned brunette, but Eren’s instincts, quicker than Eren’s compromised thoughts to realize that they had won, quickly pushed through the moment and had the younger man reeling Levi in and initiating a savage kiss. Levi only returned the kiss for a moment before pulling away with a sneer, one hand tight in Eren’s hair holding his head away, while the other traveled down Eren’s body before finally, _finally_ wrapping around Eren’s throbbing cock. 

Eren let out a shout at the touch, eyes rolling back into his head as the raven struck up a fast rhythm, bringing his hand up to quickly spit in it before returning to masturbating Eren to within an inch of his life. Each jerk of his hand had Levi swiping his thumb over the head of Eren’s dick, nail occasionally slipping into the slit, and Eren writhed with the sensation, his moans growing louder and more desperate, his breath beginning to hitch. 

“ _Yes_ , Levi,” he crooned, “Just like that, oh gods-“ and then he was cumming, thick ropes of his release splattering against his stomach as he whimpered. 

Finally, the physical anguish would stop — except — “No!” he cried, tears streaking down his cheeks. Eren was still hard, and the anguish of the need for release had only _intensified_. “Why?!” he brought his hands up, digging his palms into his eyes even as his hips began to thrust of their own accord, fucking again into Levi’s still tight grip. But it wasn’t enough, he needed — “ _More_ , Levi. I need more!” he choked, back arching at the overstimulation of handling himself after cumming already, despite the fact that he was still hard. He tried to lean up, to capture Levi’s lips once more, but the prince’s hand was still tight in his hair, so Eren only mewled pitifully, panting as his thrusting grew ever faster. 

His release was so close that Eren could almost taste it, but Levi was only crouching there, expression glacial, nothing more than a warm fist, and Eren didn't care that, were it not for the spell, he would be horrified by all of this, because He. Needed. More. 

“GIVE IT TO ME!” the rabid boy keened, arching hard before collapsing back as his crying grew earnest, the tears peppered with wrenching hiccups. Feeling like his skin was flaking away under the demands of his body, Eren pried his eyes open, reaching up with one shaking hand to gently stroke trembling fingers down Levi’s cheek. “Please, Levi, help me,” he whispered, the pain beginning to make his sight white out, his limbs to convulse. 

With a pained groan, Levi surged forward, capturing Eren’s lips with his own and parting them with his tongue. Eren gasped around the wet heat that began fucking into his mouth, his body, tighter than a bow until this point, suddenly growing lax as he let out a high-pitched, pleasured sigh. Eren wrapped his legs around Levi’s waist, grinding his erection against the royal’s hip, eager to be filled — but then Levi was pulling away.

Capturing Eren’s face between his hands, Levi leaned forward to murmur against his lips, “I’m not going to fuck you, Eren.”

“What?” Eren’s face was the picture of genuine confusion, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed with the fever of the spell. But before he could protest further, Levi was rolling them and flipping the brunette. 

Flat on his back, Eren now lay on top of Levi, flush to his chest, and the royal had twined each of his legs around Eren’s, while one of the royal’s hands wrapped around Eren’s chest to hold both of his wrists captive. Eren’s head fell back over the shorter man’s shoulder, his neck arching and breath straining just the tiniest bit.

“What are you doing?” Eren growled, twisting and bucking but unable to get free.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” Levi muttered, lowering his other hand back to Eren’s cock and taking firm hold of it, continuing straight into his earlier pace. 

“It’s not _enough_ , Levi,” Eren mourned, even as he began thrusting up to meet Levi’s fist.

“It will have to be,” the prince replied tersely, and Eren yowled his protest even as he shot his load once more, burying his face against Levi’s neck.

The rest of the night passed for Eren in a blur of pleasure and pain, his shouts of both curses and praises a backdrop to Levi’s iron grip and will holding the young man still while milking him through orgasm after orgasm. But despite the gratification that each release brought him, Eren’s empty core ached to be filled, and the constant assault against his dick was barely enough to keep the shattering pain and feral need at bay. 

Finally, though, in the early hours of morning, Eren slumped forward in Levi’s arms. The prince had moved them into a sitting position, Eren caged in by the shorter man’s limbs. 

“Eren?” Levi released the brunette’s finally limp penis to tilt the boy’s head back, worried at the sudden stillness, but Eren, at long last released from the spell’s consummating hold, had only fallen immediately into a deep sleep. 

Levi pulled Eren tight against his chest with a broken breath, before quickly separating from the boy. He laid him on the couch and covered him with a blanket before hurrying away, the memory of Eren’s throaty sounds of pleasure echoing through his mind, the smell of the boy’s musk and cum thick on his clothes. 

_______  
XXXX  
END SMUT  
XXXX  
_______

 

When Eren woke, late in the afternoon, he expected to feel dirty. And he did — he was covered in all kinds of dried-up fluids — but not… _dirty_. The kind of dirty that bled like a stain, that bruised the heart; a defiling of the spirit. A dirty that sunk deep and tolled low, like a bell announcing that some great tragedy had just occurred, crying for aid. 

Eren expected to feel that private hurt and disgust, expected to quietly ache with it — but he _didn’t._

Sitting up, the boy winced. He really was filthy, and in need of a bath. 

He wondered why he didn't feel worse. 

When Marco first announced the compulsion to consummate, Eren had been mortified and repulsed. To be forced into a sexual act…that was — well. Eren knew what the word for that was. 

But after having actually lived through it…despite still being angry and embarrassed (oh gods, was he embarrassed, after the things he said and did (no matter how good they had felt)), despite knowing that it was in no way whatsoever right or acceptable that he had been forced to do those things, he still didn't necessarily feel like a _victim_. Not of Levi, at least. 

Remembering the night before, Eren’s cheeks flamed, and he helplessly brought his hands up to try and cool their blush. 

Oh _gods_.

He had thrown himself at the royal — figuratively _and_ literally — had touched himself, demanded to be touched, demanded _more_ — had _said_ such provocative things. And Levi had…stopped him. As best as he could. Eren had been mindless with the spell’s lust, and Levi could easily have taken advantage of the situation. Most nobles would have, especially with the way Eren was begging for it. But Levi had refused. Had done his best to still help Eren, had held him and touched him (had _touched_ him), while also doing his best to maintain the boy’s what, his virtue? His dignity? Hard to think that Eren, naked and wanton, had had any dignity left to speak of, by that point. So then why? The two had been friends before everything got so complicated (got even _more_ complicated), so maybe it was a lingering fondness that had stayed the royal from acting further? But Eren had been desperate and in pain — wouldn't a friend want to alleviate his distress, even if it required… _that_. And Eren _had_ been asking for it — _pleading_ to be filled. And, in that moment, he had meant it. He had really meant it, when he had said he wanted it, _needed_ it — needed Levi. So then why? Why had Levi still stopped? Why had he taken such pains to to walk that thready, thin line without crossing it, when doing so would have been easier for both of them?

_“You don’t want this, Eren. You said you didn’t want this.”_

_“Trust me.”_

Levi’s words came to the young man. 

Eren _had_ said he didn't want it. Had said it wasn’t a choice, if something was driving him to make it. Had told Levi that, unequivocally, he would not have sex with him. 

And Levi had…listened. 

Even though Eren had been in pain and would have been grateful, in the heat of things, if Levi had given in, the royal had refused to fully consummate the bond, and all because of Eren’s earlier “no.”

Eren didn’t feel like a victim because, ultimately, Levi had respected Eren’s choice and done his best to follow it, despite the rather harrowing circumstances; the inconvenience of spending hours fighting with Eren and containing him, keeping him calm; bringing him to climax over and over, while each time denying him anything more. 

Levi had known that Eren was not in his right mind to make any type of judgment, when he changed his ‘no’ to a ‘yes’ — had recognized that a ‘yes’ said under duress is still actually a ‘no.’ But Levi didn't only hold to Eren’s earlier decision, made when the boy was actually of sound mind and capable of logical thought — he also made sure that _Eren_ held to that decision. Levi had known that, even if Eren appeared to want it in the moment, that afterwards, the youth would have been devastated if things between them had escalated.

Levi had _helped_ Eren. 

So Eren didn’t feel dirty because, in a world where the royal now had complete power of, and over, Eren — _literally_ — where Eren was now in turn completely powerless — knowing that Levi actually respected Eren’s “no”, obeyed it absolutely, to the point of making sure _Eren_ stood by it? Well, that meant…everything. 

Because it gave Eren a little bit of his autonomy back.

It gave Eren a _choice._

And with that choice, Eren felt a little bit of the helplessness he’d been steeping in, that sucking, dragging terror, just a tiny bit of it, slowly melt away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1st time writing smut…real awkward trying to think of the many ways to say weiner lmfao! also, I hoped I handled the (emerging) fallout okay? Does it make sense, Eren’s perception of not being a victim? it was hard to approach, but for obvious reasons, I need their relationship to NOT be tainted in that way & I think it works, the way I approached it. Eren was basically in heat (gahk) & Levi was doing the bare minimum he could to help him through it.
> 
> Now you’ve read it, did you see what I meant by OOC? Mostly w/Mikasa & Levi…I feel like both are too emotional in this ch, but I guess considering the ~events~ it’s OK? OTL. Let me know?  
> Now my *own* comments:  
> ~notice the repeat of the prologue &early ch(s)? Really wanted to re-use those sections, but with more insights/emotions — cool how you can completely change the meaning/implications with tone & body language etc!  
> ~mikasa’s crown’s straight up inspired by the white witch’s in the film version of the lion, the witch, & the wardrobe ~ don’t read into it too much, though lol  
> ~M is not for Mikasa but for…machiavelli! Mikasa’s verrry driven, so don’t mistake her apparently quick concession to giving up the throne as her, in turn, giving up. She’s just also very practical, & she knows that her rule will never be stable, now. also…other things, that will come to the light as the fic progresses. But yeah, not giving up — because she’s just appointed herself vizier LOL savage. Erwin’s NOT pleased. & on that note..  
> ~Erwin’s like a father to M. lord knows Kenny was a pos dad. But Erwin’s also Erwin, & he’s a schemer through & through, & you *know* he’s been enjoying the power & influence being Mikasa’s ersatz dad’s given him. Levi’s much too independent in this fic to take Erwin’s counsel like Mikasa, & Erwin knows this, so a large part of his insistence that Mikasa keep the thrown’s not exactly altruism..  
> ~Hanji’s a genius scientist, but also the most superstitious &devout believer in mitras outside of priests, which is why as soon as they found out about the binding being a magical control, they tried to stop it (if you look back at the last ch, there’s a moment where Eren fades into lucidity and hears raised voices? Hanji punching the temple staff. You go, Hanji)  
> ~also, w/regards to the binding, the rules &idiosyncrasies of that will become more clear as things progress, but safe to say for now that it’s limited to physical actions  
> ~Levi said “hokum” & I was dying while typing that word idk why  
> ~on that note: this fic is so all over the place, with regards to language lmfao sometimes i have them speaking like they’re stars in a period piece, strolling along w/Jane Austin, &other times it could be an episode on MTV (Levi, especially). idk folks, but them’s the breaks haha. just let me know if it’s too disruptive/discordant, & I will try to blend the two modes better  
> ~we spotted a bit of berserker Eren, there, chewing his thumb…there’s a lot of angst lately, but don't forget that 1 scene where he beat like 10 boys into the ground. Eren’s still a badass. He’s just been dealing w/a lot of heavy shit, lately. That anger will start coming back around, though (as seen in this scene)  
> ~***I made a [family tree](https://kalipeda.tumblr.com/post/171629354360/mitras-family-tree-complete-with-awful-made-up)  
> to help you guys understand levi & mikasa’s lineage better, if that’s any help to you! i manipulate things pretty wonky, there, but hopefully it’s not too weird…  
> ~the “ancient text” is german. lmfao. all the umlauts i’ve been employing inspired me.  
> ~a wild jean appears! also…anyone want to guess who the servant who delivered dinner is? (it’s the same servant who stumbled in on a sleeping Eren &found him pretty…but who else is he??)  
> ~lastly, in line with Mikasa being machiavellian, she expresses regret to Eren, but it’s not true remorse — or at least repentance. She still looks down on Eren &the cotidianum as a whole, but she has enough of a moral compass to realize that forced sex is wrong (even though that same morality does not extend to creating checks to protect the other cotidianum snatched up during the culling!! more on that laterrr~…). Mostly, she’s sorry for forcing all of this on Levi, bc she grew up with him & loves her cousin (brother omg!), so that’s where 99% of her concern lies currently (besides w/her own precarious position having just been toppled, essentially)  
> annnnd THAT’s it!  
> I hope these gave some better insights into this ch. Like i said, something about it left me unhappy, but i couldn't keep you waiting any longer, so the notes make me feel a bit better, being able to explain things..  
> Thank you again SO much for reading!


	15. Beauty in the Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren is Eren  
> New faces  
> New friends  
> Armin is on a mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Hello! Sorry for the longer than usual break between posts ~ work and university are all consuming gahk.  
> This isn’t super long, or eventful, but hopefully it’ll tide you all over until next time ;)  
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and kudos! Any Qs, drop 'em below or find me on tumblr @ kalipeda  
> Please enjoy!!
> 
> x

Eren woke up feeling grimy and not _dirty_ , but he was still pissed off. Even if Levi had respected Eren’s choice, had indeed protected the young man from the brunt of the binding, the fact remained that the damn binding itself continued to stand as a massive violation, and one that had been put on Eren unwillingly. Even if Levi had not taken advantage of Eren the previous night, there were other ways to be raped. 

Eren shuddered even thinking the word. 

But that’s what this was, the binding: a royal’s wanton bid for power and the resultant destruction of Eren’s autonomy. The comparison of Eren to a city under siege seemed rather apt (even if Levi was doing his best to keep the invading forces back; even if he was king of the castle being invaded; even if it was his poor skills in diplomacy that helped trigger the invasion in the first place). 

Sighing, the boy dragged his surprisingly sore body to the bathroom and twisted the taps to the bath. Immediately, steaming water began to pour out, the spring water’s slightly sulfury smell of minerals not unpleasant, and quickly covered by the honey and cinnamon scent of the bath oil Eren added next. Already naked, he began to lower himself into the sunken tub, pausing on the first step as movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

Turning, he was faced with his own image, illuminated by strategic windows placed in the ceiling, reflected back in a giant mirror that took up most of the wall. He’d forgotten about that. 

Swallowing nervously, he stepped back out of the tub and approached the mirror, his gaze drifting across the display of his body. 

_Oh_.

Most of the last night was a blur in Eren’s memory, but as he took in the various marks, images came back to him…

The purple where his neck met his shoulder and where Levi had nipped him harshly in retaliation of Eren grinding back against him suggestively; Levi holding Eren up from behind while they kneeled on the floor, Eren’s hands reaching up and back, tangled in the royal’s silky hair. 

The greenish impression of fingerprints on his thighs, already healing, where Levi had gripped him hard, holding Eren up as he was pushed against a wall, legs wrapped tight around the prince’s waist. 

The red on his ass and shoulder blades from the carpet rubbing against his skin, Levi holding him down as he writhed against the floor. 

Eren brought shaky fingers up to cover his lips, still red and swollen, his other hand pressing up against his beating heart. He really did look debauched. 

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Eren turned away from the rather lewd sight with a jerky movement before nearly falling into the tub in his haste to sink below the bubbles. He settled low in the water, the suds lapping just below his nose, his brow furrowed. 

Eren didn’t feel like he’d been violated by Levi, but he sure looked like it — if being an enthusiastic participant counted as violation (if being an enthusiastic participant meant being magically stimulated agains his will). 

Eren slumped all the way below the waterline with a moan before surfacing again, leaning his head against the tub’s rim and closing his eyes tight. 

The steam and quiet lapping of the water against his skin and the tub lulled Eren into a quiet state of contemplation. 

Every image he had of last night, though lewd, involved Levi restraining Eren in some capacity — holding down or up or pinning against a surface — while simultaneously pleasuring him. Only a few times had Levi kissed Eren, and usually it was to shut him up when Eren’s curses that he needed more and that Levi was letting him be hurt became especially mean. 

Eren glared down at the traitor between his legs that gave a curious twitch at the memories — he didn’t have the binding to blame for that bit of interest. 

Which was disturbing. 

Because Eren wasn't allowed to find his forced sexual interactions with Levi appealing. That was just…wrong. Wasn’t it? But every time he thought of last night he didn't think of the binding forced on him — no, he had to _remind_ himself of that. Instead, he thought of the care and simultaneous aggression Levi treated him with, the restraint and respect he somehow managed to demonstrate even when his fingers were incongruously curled around Eren, stroking, bringing him to climax, while also knotted in his hair, holding him back and denying. How could a snarled “no” be so kind? 

Eren huffed a pathetic moan and sigh in one. 

He had no idea what to think anymore. 

So, he spent the next 45 minutes soaking and studiously avoiding thoughts of Levi’s hands on him, Levi’s lips, Levi’s breath… Eren finally sat up with a splash, hot and agitated. “Stupid Levi,” he grumbled, latching on to a bar of soap and lathering himself up vigorously. “This would all be so much easier if he was ugly.” 

(Of course Eren refused to acknowledge that in calling Levi “not ugly” he was, by default, calling him “attractive.” )

Finished washing, Eren dried himself off with a ridiculously soft towel before approaching a small shelf filled with various vials, jars and tins which he proceeded to open and sniff one by one, a task which took a considerable amount of time, in light of the sheer number of colored glass jars, and which fulfilled the happy task of distracting him, however briefly, from thoughts containing the words “levi” and “attractive” in the same sentence. It wasn’t clear which products served which purpose so, with a shrug, and simply choosing those that had smelt nicest, Eren began dripping, pouring, and swiping the creams, oils and pastes onto his body. One arm he covered with a golden oil that was vaguely smoky and sweet. His other arm he splashed with a liquid that, like the bath water, was sharp with the scent of cinnamon. His right leg was treated to a musky vanilla, and his left leg a sharp almost floral scent. His torso he slathered with a bright and peppery cream. 

Feeling pungent in the best way possible, Eren made to turn away before pausing, a narrow vial made of carved, dark blue glass catching his eye. Biting his lip, he picked up the vial, allowing a few drops of the silky serum within to drip onto his fingertips, and before he could think too hard about what he was doing or why, gently rubbed the oil into the marks on his neck; on his thighs; his hips and back; pausing on his ass-cheeks, before quickly continuing to his wrists; finishing by wiping the excess into his hair, still damp. 

Clean and fresh, but also spicy and warm, the serum smelled oddly sensual — and just like a certain noble that Eren refused to name.

Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, and obscurely disappointed that no one was there to witness such a fantastically dramatic entrance, Eren explored the contents of the heavy armoire which dominated a large amount of wall space; the thing was so huge he could actually walk into it (not very far, but still). It appeared that his new wardrobe had been delivered by the team of seamsters, and that they’d followed through in their initial suggestions of providing him with garments all in dark, warm colors, the glint of gold and copper catching and throwing sunlight even from within the deep recesses of the closet. 

It was all so fancy. 

Eren, struck with a strange, rather nonsensical whim, found the most elaborate tunic and jacket, black and heavy with intricate, gold bead work, and pulled them on over a tight pair of silk leggings in a shiny champagne color. Another mirror was fastened to the inside of one of the armoire’s doors, and he regarded himself critically. Eren hated the nobles, he hated the way they lived in such extreme excess when he had grown up without even owning a pair of shoes, had gone hungry so many nights. But he really liked their clothes. 

Feeling guilty, but blushing at the way that the ornate attire made him feel so…oh gods, so _pretty_ …Eren turned and made for the sitting room only to be met with — a locked door. 

Eren’s hand recoiled from the knob and he frowned. Surely he was mistaken. Reaching out slowly this time, he carefully twisted the handle once more but — no. It would not move. Mouth falling open, eyes blinking quickly, he tried again. But still the knob did not turn. 

“Hello?” he called, continuing to twist at the handle, his attempts growing more frantic, turning into rattles as his other hand came up to knock on the door, “Hello? I think — I’ve been locked in! Is anyone there? Hello?? Hello?!” He continued to pound on the door, trying desperately to get out, calling for someone to let him out, anyone, but he soon gave up, slumping tiredly with his forehead against the wood, both hands fisted, one still around the handle and the other up near his face as realization sunk in.

They had locked him in his room. 

Suddenly, the once warm and inviting space was anything but, and Eren felt stupid for ever believing it could be safe — could be _his_. This wasn’t a home — it was a prison. A lovely, gilt prison, meant to lull him into a false sense of security. 

Eren choked back a sob. “It never ends, does it?” he whispered plaintively to whatever god was listening. 

He rested against the door for another quiet moment, working to suppress the tears that threatened. He was done crying because of the the Expolitum. He refused to shed another tear because of something they did to him, to show any type of weakness, to concede their power over him. He was _done_. 

Eren slowly turned against the door, head angled back lazily as he took in the bedroom. Not _his_ bedroom. Eyes catching on the windowsill and the list of names carved their; not _their_ bedroom, either. 

“If you’re going to keep us jailed,” he spoke to the air, thinking of the men and women who had come before him, “at least be honest about it.” 

And then that lovely, familiar rage was back. 

Anger was a well-worn companion of Eren’s. It had made him a force to be reckoned with in his days with the Rag’n’Bones, had kept him alive, had made him respected. It made Eren strong, like when he had dealt with the boys in the dining hall of Levi’s manor, dispatching of them quickly and effectively. It had pulled him from his deepest moments of panic, and carried him through them, like when he departed from the castle. His sword and shield, Eren’s anger overcame time and moments that he could not face alone, a barrier between Eren, the world, and the people in it. It was deep and vast in ways that, if he was being honest, scared Eren, ways he did not understand, that he lost himself to, letting the blood-lust and cold heat of fury take over his thoughts and actions — and it was easy. It was so, _so_ easy to fall into, for Eren to wrap around himself like a mantle, doing away with the pains and concerns of rational thought. 

So Eren let himself fall. 

Not long later, the door burst open, the pair of guards Eren had seen guarding the royal entrance now bracketing the entryway with mirroring looks of consternation plastered across their faces. 

Eren turned, a glowing figure in the destructive scene, his feral grin nothing less than a threat. The room lay in shatters around him, the furniture smashed against the walls and floor, pillows and bedding ripped and torn, their downy feathers still floating softly through the air. Eren himself had managed to pop multiple seams on his jacket, the faint remorse not even registering in his temper fueled mind as beads exploded into the air and continued to drip from the stitchings with each movement he made, trailing his path of demolition with puddles of gold. 

One of the guards, the one with two-toned hair who had been so snide with Eren after the binding ceremony, stepped forward with an arm outstretched, “What — what the hell are you doing?!” he sounded incredulous. 

Not in the mood to dignify that with a response, Eren allowed his grin to break and calmly picked up the remnants of one of his bed posts before flinging it with all of his strength. The two guards retreated with shouts of protestation, leaving the pole, almost as long as Eren, to clatter against the doorframe. Eren was quick to follow, leaping over the still gently rocking post and bursting past the guards who had hesitantly ducked back into the doorway, barreling them over as he sprinted for the door. 

_Out, out, out_ he needed _OUT_.

But the sitting room door was locked, too.

Letting loose an inarticulate shout of rage, Eren rounded on the guards, now upright once more. “Let me out,” he growled. 

“Can’t do that,” the taller of the guards grimaced. Tall and incredibly muscular, he seemed chagrined as he rubbed his chin, no doubt over the fact that the significantly smaller Eren had managed to bowl him over so thoroughly. 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Eren challenged.

“What does it matter?” two-toned sputtered, “Either way, you’re not leaving these rooms!”

“Don’t antagonize him, Jean,” the blonde frowned.

“I’m not! I’m just saying orders are orders, and those are the orders.”

“So both, then?” Eren drawled, just to be contrary.

“Both, neither, it doesn't change anything, you idiot!” Jean exclaimed.

“For fuck’s sake,” his companion breathed, pinching his nose on a grimace. 

“What?!” Jean left off glaring at a now smirking Eren to round on the other guard, “What, Reiner? _What_? It _doesn't_ matter!”

“So then why do you seem to care so damn much?” Reiner arched a brow.

Jean spluttered, “I-I don’t! _He_ —“ he cut off, glancing around in confusion, “Where did he go?”

Eren, who was still riding the crest of his wave of anger, but had pulled back enough to use some common sense, waved from where he now sat reclined on a settee. “Hey.”

For some reason this infuriated Jean further, as Eren had suspected it might, but Reiner grabbed his arm before he could take a step closer. “Are you done?” the blonde asked slowly with a jerk of his chin over his shoulder towards the bedroom.

“For now,” Eren tilted his head and raked his eyes over the two guards in an obvious, but bored, way, wetting his lips with his tongue and allowing his legs to fall open. Color rushed to Jean’s cheeks, whether in fury or something else Eren didn’t care, just juveniley happy to keep provoking such fun reactions from the long-faced boy. 

Reiner’s gaze grew heavy on Eren, almost bringing pause to the leer that had begun to form on the brunette’s face, but he blinked once and the intensity was gone. Instead the guard tugged Jean towards the door. “Then we’ll see ourselves out,” he spoke calmly, pulling a long chain from around his neck, hidden beneath his armor, on which dangled a key that he used to quickly unlock the door, shoving a still glowering Jean out in front of him. Turning, he tugged the door shut firmly behind him, the snick of the key locking once more seeming to echo menacingly through the space. 

Immediately Eren was jumping to his feet. 

Eren was a good fighter and had his manic rage to fuel him, but he wasn’t stupid — even though he’d managed to make it past Jean and Reiner to get to the sitting room, he’d had the element of surprise on his side. Otherwise, his odds of taking down two fully armored guards carrying swords, and with shields strapped to their backs, both taller than Eren, were very slim. The direct approach would not do, here. 

Twenty minutes later and dangling from a window, Eren was beginning to reevaluate whether he was stupid after all. The ground was much further away than he had initially judged it to be, and his rope of knotted blankets was beginning to make ominous tearing noises. His berserker rage, and the bravado that went with it, finally left Eren in a poof, blown away with one of the strong gusts of wind coming off the mountain, and which rattled Eren against the castle wall. 

Deciding to pause his escape plan in the name of living another day, Eren shakily climbed his way back up the shitty rope (gods he was an idiot — why would that _ever_ have worked in reality) before collapsing on the window-bench. 

Letting his head fall to the side and taking in the mess, he debated putting the room back to a semblance of order, but decided he was still rather furious, after all. Instead, Eren wrapped himself in the sheets of his failed tool of escape, and took an angry nap. 

x

Eren spent the day languishing in a hazy cloud of sleep and lowly simmering rage, only surfacing from his dozing state when the servant with close cropped hair who had delivered dinner the previous night returned with a late breakfast, which Eren refused to touch, and then lunch, which he also left uneaten, and finally dinner, at which point he was jolted fully awake by a crashing sound. Eren surged upright, watching the servant in confusion where he stood over the tray he had just slammed down on to the bedside table (barely staying upright on the three legs it had left). 

“You must. Eat.” 

Eren blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You are excused, but only if you eat!” 

“I-“ the brunette frowned, “I’m not hungry?”

The servant threw his hands up and scrubbed them through his hair, a scritching noise accompanying the movement of his calloused palms against the short bristles. 

“That’s because you haven’t gotten up once all day, as far as I can tell, aside from when you made this mess! Not that you have to care — you’re not the one who will clean it, after all, and you’re not the one who will get in trouble if I keep returning to the kitchens with full trays. Oh, no — it’ll be me!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Eren said softly, shame bubbling acrid on a hitch of startled breath. He hadn’t thought — well. That was just it, wasn't it? He hadn't thought. He’d acted just like the Expolitum, without a care for how his actions might effect others. 

“Well you ought to — wait, what?” the servant froze mid gesticulation.

Eren dropped his feet to the floor and stood before collapsing back onto his bottom in a woozy spell. Maybe he was hungry after all. “I said I’m sorry,” he swallowed past the light-headedness. 

“O-oh.” The servant dropped his hands to fold behind his back and his eyes to skitter bashfully across the floor, “Well. That’s okay, then.”

Eren sighed, standing again but this time more slowly, “No, it’s not.”

Another pause, “I can’t believe I spoke that way to you. I-I’m sorry, please don’t report me! If I lose this job my Mam will kill me.”

“I’m not going to report you for being honest.”

The servant looked back up with a slight frown, “Begging your pardon and I mean no offense, but you don’t act much like a noble. Don’t sound much like one, too.”

Eren lifted a brow in amusement — he imagined that, were he a noble, he would be offended, indeed — and approached the servant and the tray lain out before him. “That’s because I’m not.”

“But you’re — that is, you’re the Queen’s, er,” he visibly struggled to produce a politic word for the male equivalent of ‘mistress.’

“Dirty, secret lover?” Eren self-deprecated, reaching down and snagging a slice of bread off the tray.

“Wh-what?” the shorter boy squeaked, looking terrified, “N-no, that’s not what I-“

“I’m not,” Eren cut him off with a casual shrug. 

Once again, the servant seemed flummoxed. He cleared his throat, asking in a high pitched, thready voice, “You’re not?”

“No,” Eren smiled, now popping a grape in his mouth. “So Mikasa is still queen, then?”

“Er, why wouldn’t..she…be?” the servant asked, clearly confused. Evidently news about the failed bonding spell hadn’t had time to travel beyond the peerage that had gathered in the thrown room yesterday. Eren wondered if the existence of the bonding spell was even widely known, outside of that select level of nobility and the royal guards. 

“No reason,” Eren deflected, absently watching with a frown as the boy fidgeted before him. Eren didn’t like that his presence alone made the boy nervous, especially since as a palace servant, his station in life would have been quite a bit higher than Eren’s previous one of farmer turned street gangster turned farmer again. “What’s your name?” he asked apropos of nothing.

“Connie?” the servant responded faintly, mystified. 

“I’m Eren. Nice to meet you, Connie.”

“R-right. Nice to meet you, too, your lordship.”

“Eren,” he emphasized, “I’m not of the nobility. Your ears were right — I’m Cotidianum, like you,” he acknowledged the slight lilt to his words that put the dialect of the Cotidianum beneath the hard, syllabic pronunciations of the Expolitum. 

“Then what…” Connie trailed off, looking around to indicate their surroundings. 

“What am I doing here?” Eren finished his question. Connie nodded, continuing to fidget. “It’s a bit of a long story, really. But first — do you believe in magic?”

“Ha!”

“Right. Then let’s just say that I’m a political prisoner.”

“From where? For what?”

“From a tiny hamlet far inland. You’d be more familiar with its neighboring town, Grisha.” The moderately sized city that Eren’s home-town, and the town the Rag-n-Bones had haunted, were satellites of. 

“The Slum of the South?”

Eren winced at the unkind, but no less accurate, nickname, “The very same.”

Connie was still a moment, taking in the destruction around them before turning back to Eren. “You’re a prince, aren't you?”

Eren sputtered on his latest bite of food, only just managing not to spit it out everywhere. “ _What_?”

“I mean, not a real prince. But a, you know, a street prince. You’re some gang’s Guv, aren't you?”

“Uhh,” Eren was struck rather speechless.

“It’s okay,” Connie tapped the side of his nose with a conspiratorial wink, “I might work in these posh digs, but I’m born and raised in the West End.” His speech suddenly dipped into a markedly less refined cadence, and he said it like one word, ‘ _Westend._ ’ “My Mam woulda had my hide if I’d joined up with some boyos, but I always thought they was rather dashin’ an’ all.” He cleared his throat, glancing away from Eren with a swipe of his forearm over his nose. “They’re trying to flush out your boys, aren't they?” his speech returned somewhat to its more “cultured” inflections, but never to the full “polish” not doubt expected of him by his employers. “Ta clear out Grisha?”

“Not exactly -“

Connie cut him off, looking earnest, “It’s okay! I understand. Gotta keep it hush-hush, and all, don't want other crews cottonin’ on, making for your turf.”

“Er-“ deciding that it was easier not to correct Connie on his assumptions, Eren settled for a curious, “What led you to that?”

The shorter boy kicked idly at a torn pillow nearby, sending a plume of feathers fluttering once more. “Takes a certain kinda person to ruin a place so thoroughly.”

Eren’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t swallow past the knot that formed there. “And I’m that kind?”

Connie shrugged, a small, innocent smile on his face. “Aren’t ya?”

Eren broke eye contact to take in the mess once more. The only pieces of furniture that had survived unscathed were the bookshelves and bed-frame. Even the mattress was halfway into the bathroom. Eren blew out a slow breath from his mouth, rubbing a hand over his chin. “I suppose I am.” He did not share the other boy’s enthusiasm at that concession. 

After a little bit more back and forth, in which Connie doggedly tried to pull information from Eren about his adventures as purported gang royalty, while simultaneously reassuring Eren he didn't have to share (Eren mostly found it amusing), the brunette stopped Connie’s contemplations of all of the women who must have thrown themselves Eren’s way as a swashbuckling gangster (he seemed jealous, at the thought, but confused, too). “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s that?”

“Has there been another person, like me?”

“Another Coti’ guv?” 

Eren paused, having not heard the street diminutive for ‘Cotidianum’ in a long time. It brought back memories of Tom that made his lungs hurt. “N-no,” he forced out, voice thick. “Well, another one of us, yes. But he’s just —“ just what? One the smartest people Eren had ever met? His best friend? “—just a boy. Seems smaller than he is, blonde hair, big blue eyes.”

Connie’s own eyes lit up. “Coconut head?”

“Cocowhat?”

“A fruit the royals import in. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. But yeah, I know him! He tried to punch me,” Connie grinned. 

Eren winced. “Tried?”

“Yeah, he didn't get really far,” Connie’s grin only grew.

“Dare I ask why?” Eren tamped down the surge of his protective streak to try and see the humor.

Connie’s cheeks grew pink in obvious embarrassment. “He heard me talking to a guard.”

“About what?”

Connie coughed and cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling, “Er, you?” When Eren was silent, Connie’s gaze shot back to meet blue-greens in reassurance, “Nice things I promise! Well. Depending.” His blush spread blotchily down his neck. Eren decided he didn’t want to know.

“Right. Well, can you bring him a message for me?”

“Sure! Though I haven’t the best memory for memorizing long speeches, so it'll have to be short. And able to hold up against some paraphrasing here and there.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll write it — no memorizing necessary.”

Connie’s mouth fell open. “You, a Coti, write?”

Eren paused from rifling through the detritus heaped about the floor to glance up from his hunched position. “Only recently,” he conceded softly. 

“I never heard of a Coti’ guv knew his alphabet good enough to string more than a few letters together. How?”

Eren rested back on his heels, his arms resting across his knees, hands dangling loose in the space between them. “I was taught.”

Connie rolled his eyes, already grown comfortable in Eren’s company. “I’ll say. By who? Why?”

“I’m not sure why,” Eren picked at some of the beadwork on one of his sleeves, the small glass baubles sliding loose from their ripped threading soundlessly. “An attempt at being kind, I guess. By the prince.”

“Prince Levi?” Connie whistled low. “Now there’s a scary bastard, if ever I seen one. But good, for what he is.”

“What do you mean?” Eren tried to act nonchalant as he finally fished up a loose leaf of paper, torn from one of the calendar books that had rested on the desk, returning to the rubble in search of a fountain pen.

“True he’s Expolitum, and a royal to boot, but he’s honest — not two-faced like the rest of them. And he’s always good to us servants. Doesn’t yell or throw things. Has started thanking us, lately, even.” 

“He has?” Eren nearly fell back onto his ass.

“Yupp,” Connie popped the ‘p,’ “Nearly choked, when I heard it. It doesn't mean much, but…it makes a difference. Ya know?”

“I do,” the brunette answered softly, wondering if he dared to think that Levi’s new care for his staff had anything to do with he, Eren, himself. 

“Oh, here,” Connie swooped down, straightening with a silver pen in hand, which Eren took with his own ‘thank you.’ “It’s a curious thing, isn't it?” Connie sighed, watching as Eren began painstakingly forming his letters, sounding out each syllable and hoping he was spelling everything correctly. 

“What is?” he asked distractedly, not looking up from his task. 

“That a silly looking little mark could contain the world itself,” he sighed again, wistful, and Eren paused to look up from where he’d sat cross legged, a bit of desk on his lap managing to serve its original purpose. “I supposed there is some magic in this world, after all.” 

A beat passed and then, “I could teach you.”

Connie startled, “ _What_?”

Eren licked his lips in thought, not marking how Connie’s eyes tracked the movement. “I could. I’m not the best, I’m really just learning, but I could teach you what I know.”

“You would do that? For me?”

Connie sounded so awed, that Eren had to glance back at his letter, shrugging self-consciously. “I would do it for any of my crew,” he managed to look back up with a grin, “We Coti’ gotta stick together, don’t we?”

Connie’s face lit up, “Does that mean I’m in your crew?”

Eren laughed, returning to his letter, “If you like. A new one for this new place.”

“I do! I like a lot!”

“Then it’s settled. Now let me right,” he said not unkindly. 

Connie lowered himself to sit behind Eren, his excitement palpable in the way his body thrummed, knee jittering, mouth opening only just to close with a click and a hitch of breath as Connie tried to follow Eren’s request to let him finish. Eventually, though, the excess of energy became too much to ignore, and Eren turned to him with an amused eye-roll. “Yes?”

“It’s only —“ Connie seemed to trip on the words in his effort to get them out, as if afraid that Eren would change his mind and tell him to quiet, again. “—what’s our name, then?”

“Er, Connie and Eren?” he scrunched his nose.

Connie giggled, especially amused. “No, no — our crew? What’s our crew’s name, Eren?” His name he spoke softly, tentatively. 

“Oh.” Eren blinked, a little nonplussed. “Well. What do you think it should be?”

Connie’s mouth widened in an ‘o,’ “You’d let _me_ choose?”

Eren smiled, “Sure. You’re my First, aren't ya? Gotta be some perks that come with the position.”

Connie positively writhed, he was so overcome, “That — yes! I’ll make it a good one, cross my heart!”

Eren was sure he would. 

x

Connie left the royal suites in a bit of a daze. He’d met the beautiful man — _Eren_. Found out that he wasn't just some Expolitum floozy, whatever the male equivalent to a little skirt on the side was. Eren was a Coti’, like him. And after talking to him, Connie knew that he was smart, and funny and, most dashing of all — a prince of the street. For all of Connie’s lack of worldliness, Eren might as well have been a pirate, exotically dangerous and attractive with that pearl smile highlighting his golden skin. 

Connie patted his pocket where he had tucked the letter away, checking that he still had it. It wouldn't do to fail his first assignment as a member of the… Dagger Boys? Royal Lads? Connie frowned (he was still working on the name), and quickened his pace as he passed the guards at the door with a thin smile, eager to deliver the letter to its intended recipient. 

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he let his fingers brush against the thin parchment, imagining the black lines inked across its surface, and what meanings they might spell. Soon, he would be able to decode such messages on his own. _Eren had said he would teach him_. 

Connie had never been in a street gang before — his Mam hadn't quite taken his hide, but she had beat him silly with a broom when she found out he’d been hanging about the Westsider’s turf, so many years ago — so he didn't exactly have a point of comparison, but he had no doubts that Eren was just about the best Guv a Coti’ could ask for. 

The Prince’s suite was right down the hall from the Queen’s, so Connie didn’t bother slipping into the servants’ hall to make the short trip. No guards manned the smaller, less ornate door, and Connie slunk in as quickly as possible, before Jean and Reiner could stop him, turning down the short passage to the guest room where Armin was holed up. 

“What do you want?” the blonde sneered at Connie. Just that morning, Jean had been walking to his post for the day as Connie had been carrying Armin’s breakfast tray, when the topic of the Queen’s new toy had come up. Not thinking much of it, Connie had waved the guard in with him as he went to drop the tray at the small dining table, launching into a lascivious description when Armin had suddenly come running out of the still dark hall, fist raised, a small shout of fury calling attention his way before he’d come even close to Connie. Jean had stepped in (unnecessarily, in Connie’s opinion) and bundled the boy away as he spit threats at Connie to ‘never talk that way about him again!’ It seemed that Armin was still sour over the whole thing. Fair enough. 

“Quick, before Jean shows up — I’m supposed to give you this,” Connie foisted the letter over. 

Armin unfolded it, a line between his brows, “Who is this…” he trailed off as his eyes scanned quickly over the symbols. “Eren?” he looked up at Connie, eyes misty.

Connie nodded, glancing back at the door where he expected Jean to come in at any second, asking what he was doing. They were friendly, but rules were rules, and Connie had no business in Levi’s suite at this hour. “What’s it say?”

Armin was quiet a moment, reading the letter over once more, this time more slowly. As he read, his expression grew stonier while the color leeched sickly from his skin. Armin lowered the letter, his grip tight enough to crumple its edges, swallowing once, twice, before he managed, gaze fierce, “Where’s the library?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK but I ACTUALLY have no idea what “name” to give Eren and Connie’s little gang (lolz) so um feel free to give me suggestions, and I will credit you if I pick yours!! Thank you OTL hahaha
> 
> Sorry no Levi! Safe to say he is hiding after the events of last chapter….(and was NOT complicit in locking Eren in! I was going to wait to mention that in next chapter, but am feeling preemptively defensive of my smol angry baby)
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and pls let me know what you think!!! xoxo


	16. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren gets a nasty surprise  
> And then a couple nice ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey!  
> Nice long chapter before I die in intensive summer courses @u@  
> Thank you all so, so much for reading, commenting, and (hopefully) enjoying!  
> Find me on tumblr @ kalipeda for any questions, comments, and concerns, or say hi below!  
> Enjoy! 
> 
> x

“Nonononono,” Eren choked, one hand flung out to support himself against a wall, the other clutching his stomach as he doubled over in pain. 

It was happening again. 

But this time, there was no Levi to help alleviate the driving agony. 

Connie had left with the letter, and Eren had begun attempting to tidy the destruction he’d caused, when the first wave of the consummation hit him so unexpectedly that Eren had dropped the decorative plate he’d just been standing up straight. It had started off like the previous night, with an overwhelming surge of lust that Eren, with no other recourse, and half out of his mind with the effects, had tried to sate on his own. But without the prince there to take him in hand, Eren’s release never came, and the fire in his belly had spread to the rest of his body, licking at his skin with the blazing agony of real flame. 

Desperate, his whole body screaming for Levi’s touch, Eren had tried the door once more, but it was still locked, his pathetic whimpers and cries going unanswered, until he gave up with a pitiful weep, in too much pain to do anything more. Still doubled over, he made his way towards the bathroom, sweat and dizziness clouding his sight, his uncoordinated body, racked with pain, stumbling into the sitting room furniture and off the walls and doorjambs, the sounds of recently righted things falling once again and shattering barely registering through his haze of suffering. 

It took Eren three tries before he was able to summon the strength and coordination to twist the tap on the tub, a stream of icey water flowing into the deep basin. Unable to wait for the bath to fill, he jerkily made his way down its stairs, a great wracking shudder throwing him off balance on the last step so that he landed on his side in the inch of water that had quickly already pooled. He dry heaved once, as the horror of the freezing water against his blistering skin threatened to make him pass out, but held onto consciousness through sheer force of will alone. He was surprised there was no sizzle of steam. 

The bath filled, and Eren managed to drag himself into a sitting position, lest he drown, his sobs interjected with broken gags as the rising water seemed to only make the pain worse. Eren knew that his body temperature was dangerously high, though, and that without the prince to help him through it, he ran the risk of being truly injured, and so forced himself to endure the cold, trying to bring his fevered temperature down. 

“L-L-Levi,” the young man, never having felt like such a small, helpless boy ever before in his life, wailed miserably. _Where was he? Didn’t he know Eren needed him?_

Eventually Eren’s pain became too much, and he slipped into a hazy state of twilight, his awareness only present enough to keep his head from slipping under the water’s surface. Very distantly, he realized that he’d never turned the tap off, but the thought was gone as soon as it had come, washed away by tears and char. Instead, Eren only knew the sound of his thundering heart in his ears; the fire that ate at his body, through muscle and sinew and bone; and the ragged breaths he took, catching on each inhale, punctuated by the occasionally whimpered ‘ _Levi_.’

 

x

Splashing noises. A wounded curse. Only realizing how cold he was when twin bands of warmth curled under and around him, lifting his dripping, shivering body from the freezing water. 

“Eren! Can you hear me, Eren?” 

Who was that? They sounded familiar. They sounded…scared? But that couldn't be right.

“Fuck! Eren, stay awake — stay with me, please!”

It sounded like Levi, but that couldn't be true. Levi had left him, hadn’t he? Left him to burn.

“No, Eren, I didn’t - I didn’t know - shit! Hanji, help me!” 

Hanji was there? Did they know why Levi had left him?

“Eren, I didn't —“

Locked him in his room and left him to suffer alone, so alone, and he didn’t know if he could endure that again, didn't think he’d survive, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he'd rather kill himself the pain had been so unbearable, and where was Levi, why had he left him? Where was he? Where was he wheRE WAS HE —

“Gods _dammit_ , make him sleep!”

“I promised I wouldn't use the binding against him —“

“He is hypothermic and in shock — his heart can’t handle this! He needs to sleep, or he might hurt himself more!”

“But —“

“Now!”

A hand on his brow. So warm it hurt. The arms around him tight, safe. Eren burrowed into the touch with a sigh, even though it stung. He wished it was Levi, even though the wish hurt; the confusion of that aching need against the terror of what he’d just experienced as a result of being abandoned by the same person he desperately needed bringing tears to his closed eyes. He hated Levi.

“I know, Eren. I know. It’s okay, I deserve it.”

A sob breaking through his ceaseless shivering. He _needed_ Levi and he _hated_ Levi and he was just so tired, so, so tired. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Go ahead, okay? Can you sleep for me?”

He wanted to, but he couldn’t — not yet. He needed — he needed —

“Shh, Eren. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

No…NO…he needed —

“Sleep, Eren.”

— Levi. 

x

Eren surged awake with a deep gasp, and immediately fell into coughing. His mind felt heavy, his limbs sluggish, his eyes like loose marbles rattling about inside his head. With a groan he tried to sit up, but his muscles all said “fuck you” and refused to cooperate. 

He let his eyes stay shut, resting, as he remembered just why exactly he now felt like a giant pile of shit. 

“How are you feeling?” came Hanji’s voice, cheerful as ever. 

“Fuck off.”

“Oh? That better already?”

Eren finally opened his eyes with a sarcastic “har har.” Someone had moved his mattress back into its frame, where he was swathed in a pile of blankest and furs, and cleared out all of the debris from his room. 

“Honestly, Eren, how are you feeling?” they repeated the question, gripping his wrist in a no-nonsense kind of way while pulling out a small pocket-watch, hidden amidst the folds of their robe. 

“Like I just went through a magically induced sex-addiction withdrawal,” Eren glared. 

Hanji hummed, snapping the pocket-watch closed with a brisk twitch of their wrist, and sliding it away. “Otherwise all good?”

“Otherwise — ?” Eren stared at them dumbfounded. “I almost died!”

“Well I wouldn’t say that —“

“I might have been out of my mind, but I still remember enough, Hanji! You said my heart couldn’t handle it!”

Hanji was quiet, giving Eren a pointed look over their glasses. The brunette blushed, unsure what that look meant, and why it made him feel so put on the spot. 

“Yes,” they finally said drily. 

Eren waited for them to continue, but that seemed to be all they had to say on that particular subject. 

“How come nobody told me?” Eren bit his lip, feeling hurt. Not even Hanji had warned him that he had a second night of torture ahead of him.

They sighed, pushing their glasses up for a moment to briefly dry scrub at their face. “We didn’t know,” they answered plainly, with an apologetic shrug. “By the time the guards finally got it through their thick skulls that maybe they should tell someone about how you had been crying and hammering at the door for Levi,” Eren huffed, but didn’t otherwise interject, “it was almost morning.” 

“Was it that horse-faced one? The guard?”

“No,” Hanji laughed, “Jean was actually the one who brought it to our attention. The guards are on a frequent rotation, here; Jean was just going back on duty, when the previous guard mentioned what they’d heard.”

“And he got help?” Eren didn’t bother to hide his dubiousness.

Hanji smiled at Eren, “He said that he knew you were a suicidal bastard, but that he never took you for desperate.” _If only he knew_ , Eren thought grudgingly. “Jean can be stubborn, and a right pain in the ass, most of the time, but he’s got good instincts. He realized something was wrong,” they continued. “He likely saved your life.”

“A-HA! So it was life threatening,” Eren pointed at them smugly.

“It could have been,” they finally conceded with an amused shake of their head. How they could find Eren’s near death so evidently entertaining, Eren didn't know, but he was slightly offended at the idea and not afraid of letting that be known. At his pointed glare, Hanji rolled their eyes. “You’re fine, now, and the hypothermia wasn’t too severe, but the shock was starting to set in. If we hadn’t found you when we did, and managed to halt the process, it could very well have become a serious issue, yes.”

“Halt the process?”

“Yes.”

“You mean make Levi use the binding on me.”

“Yes, Eren. To potentially save your life, I pushed Levi into making you sleep. Nothing more, nothing less.” Eren was silent, staring at his hands. “You didn't see yourself,” Hanji reached out slowly, laying their own hand over Eren’s fists, finally serious. “I knew you weren’t in danger yet — your breathing was more or less steady, as was your pulse — but you didn't look it.”

“How did I look?” Eren couldn't stop the morbid curiosity.

“Dead,” Hanji answered bleakly, and Eren’s eyes shot up to meet theirs. “You were so pale, and your lips were blue. You weren't moving, except for the shivers. And you looked so…so small, Eren. The tub had completely overflowed and there was water streaming everywhere, and you were just huddled there amidst it all, incoherent and shaking; so very small, and fragile. Like a baby bird fallen from its nest.” They shook their head. “Levi was…he refused, at first, but he knew it was the best option.”

Eren held eye contact before pulling his gaze away with a furrowed brow. “And he didn't know? None of you knew?”

“That you would be put through that another night? No, Eren, I swear. None of us had any idea,” Hanji rushed to reassure, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Eren believed them, but — “You locked me in.”

“What?”

“Not — you. But somebody. I was locked in,” Eren waved at the room, to indicate just where, before shivering and wrapping his arms around himself, turning and laying on his side to better face Hanji. “Trapped,” he whispered. 

“That bitch.”

Eren jerked at the vehemence in Hanji’s voice. 

“We didn’t know, Eren,” the physician gripped his shoulder tightly before rising to their feet, “Though it’s the second time I’m saying this, it is no less true: I promise you, neither one of us knew. I can’t believe — ” they stopped themselves from continuing with a convulsive twitch of their eye. 

“Neither of you checked on me either,” Eren frowned. 

Hanji huffed a breath, “I was balls deep in the library with Armin, who somehow knew exactly what was going on,” they arched a brow at Eren who lifted his own stubbornly back, but continued on without pause, “and Levi — well. Levi was … something.” They scratched awkwardly behind their head.

“What does that mean?”

“He spent all morning locked in his quarters, and then all afternoon beating the shit out of the guards in the training room, and then all evening yelling at Mikasa.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So — something.”

“Is he okay now?”

“After realizing that you needed him last night but he wasn’t there for you?” Hanji said gently with a sigh, “No, I don’t know that he exactly is. But he’ll be alright, he just needs some time to work through the guilt. He’s spending today much the same as he did yesterday.”

Eren swallowed, feeling bad, and angry that he did — it wasn’t like he hadn’t just lived through the most excruciating pain of his life, right? But if Hanji was telling the truth, then Levi had had no idea. And the way he had spent his day, after the first night of the binding, hiding and fighting…Levi didn’t seem to be taking things so well, himself, either. 

Eren didn’t want to acknowledge that Levi’s entire existence had also been flipped on its axis, because it was hard to compare his own mistreatment to that of one of the nobility, who seemingly had everything they wanted in life, on top of being the source of his own strife. But Levi wasn't like the others. And his world was careening, too. As miserable as Eren was, he wasn't so big of a prick as to be able to completely deny Levi’s own suffering. Or his attempts to help Eren. 

Levi’s words from two days ago — what felt like a lifetime — came back to Eren: “ _Hate me for what I have done, but not for who I am. Don’t hold against me, my rank and position, what I have had as little power to control in life as you. I was born into this fucked up world just like you._ ”

All evidence pointed to Levi feeling awful for his inadvertent role in Eren’s own misery. And even his conversation with Connie gave evidence to the prince’s attempts to change. And yet at every turn, Eren was so quick to doubt and blame Levi, despite all evidence to the contrary. All for the simple reason that Levi was Expolitum. 

Eren felt shame, hot and heavy, settle in his lungs. 

How much of a hypocrite was he? Judging and hating all Expolitum the same, because that’s what they did to the Cotidianum? He was just another cog in the cycle of prejudice and enmity. 

Hadn’t he sworn to remove himself from that cycle? 

“Can I see him?” he asked softly, stopping Hanji who had started for the door.

They looked back over their shoulder with a tilt of their head. “Who?”

“Levi,” Eren managed around a scratchy swallow.

Hanji smiled, a small but warm thing, a hint of a chuckle behind their relieved sounding, “Of course, Eren.” They turned back fully, one hand on the door, “Should I send him here? Or would you like to meet somewhere?”

Eren frowned, “I thought I wasn't allowed to leave my rooms.”

Hanji’s smile grew rather more sinister, “She can try to keep you here,” there was no mistaking just who ‘she’ was, “but not if I can help it. I’ll drug every guard, if I have to, to keep your doors clear. As long as you are careful, and stay out of trouble,” they said that like it wasn’t very likely, and Eren grinned despite himself, “you can wander the castle freely, as you wish.”

“Really?” Eren refused to let the hope tingling in his chest fully form.

“Really, Eren. It won’t happen again — Levi and I will make sure of it.”

Eren nodded slowly. “In that case…Krista took me to a garden balcony, my first day here? Near the Green Foyer?”

“The Overview,” Hanji nodded. “Would you like to meet Levi there?”

Eren nodded once, still not trusting that he was going to be granted that level of freedom; not trusting that hope still tingling away stubbornly beneath his sternum. 

“Okay,” Hanji answered, voice still soft, almost cautious, as if sensing how much being able to move about the grounds meant to Eren and his autonomy; how fragile his cautious trust truly was, after everything. “It’s late afternoon — I’m surprised you didn’t sleep longer, actually. You really need the recovery time,” they began to frown.

“Really, I’m okay,” Eren rushed to reassure. “I’d like to speak to him soon.”

Hanji stared at him through narrowed eyes, contemplating. “Okay,” they finally allowed, voice stern, “But as soon as you start to feel tired, you come straight back to bed. Understood?”

“What are you, my parent?” he joked.

“No, but I am your doctor,” they snarked back, but Eren was too distracted to return the jest, instead suddenly stricken. His parent. His mother. Carla. He hadn’t thought of her in days. Hanji must have seen the grief and guilt on Eren’s face, because they rushed back to the bed, “Eren, what is it? Are you alright?” they felt his forehead and reached again for his wrist.

“I-“ Eren had to clear his through, “I’m fine. I just remembered something.”

Hanji let go of his wrist uncertainly, “Something important?”

Eren didn’t want to admit how troubled he was, at the realization that he’d somehow forgotten about his very own mother, but he didn’t want to lie either (it _was_ important), so he settled for a noncommittal shrug. When he said nothing else, Hanji shook their head in frustration. “Men,” they huffed, taking a step back. “Fine. I won’t pry. But I’m here if you need me, alright?” Eren nodded gratefully, and Hanji nodded back. “Alright. In the meanwhile, I’ll pass the message on to Levi. Plan to have dinner on the Overview, then, hm? That way if you want to explore a little before, you can. Alright?” Eren nodded again, and again Hanji also nodded back. “Alright. I’m off, then. Should I send Armin over, for now?”

Eren’s eyes grew wide and damp, “Yes - yes, please! Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Bean,” Hanji smiled from the door, “how many times must I tell you, hmm? Remind me to give you a hearing examination soon.” And with that, they slipped out of the room. 

Not long later, the door flew open to bang against the wall, and a small figure hurtled itself at Eren with a sound approaching a squeal. “Eren!” 

With a teary laugh, Eren gathered his friend into his arms, and the two embraced for a long while, the occasional sniff and wet laugh punctuating their exclamations of shared concern and relief at seeing each other. 

“I got your letter,” Armin eventually pulled away, only to settle next to Eren against the headboard. “I can’t believe…It sounds crazy,” he said lowly.

“And yet you did believe me,” Eren was a bit amazed. He’d kept his note short and to the point, praying that Armin understood it, and took it at face value:

_Armin,_

_Magik spell called the binding makes me do wot Levi sayz and need sex. He is the reel king not Mikasa. I am lawked in room. Pleese help._

_Eren_

Armin’s smile was grim. “I know you wouldn't joke about something like this. But we really need to work on your spelling.”

Eren knocked his shoulder against his friend’s, “I’m just glad to see you. Did you hear…about what happened?”

Armin’s smile disappeared all together. “Hanji filled me in. And you know Hanji — not much of a filter.”

Eren winced, imagining just how they might have described his situation. “They told me that they ran into you in the library. Were you able to find anything there?”

“No,” Armin sighed, rushing to reassure Eren when he drooped in disappointment, “but we were only in there for one night, and I’m not the most fluent reader — yet. But we’re hopeful! The library is huge — it has a basement level, or — it turns into one? It’s kinda strange, but it contains archives dating back hundreds of years. Hanji is positive that we will find something! But I’ll be honest, Eren — we’re just not sure when that will be.”

“But you’re looking?”

“We are. And we won’t stop until we _do_ find something to either undo, or somehow nullify, the spell.”

“Thank you,” Eren wiggled lower so he could rest his head against his friend’s shoulder. 

Armin only hummed, resting his cheek against the top of Eren’s head. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, and Eren was contemplating dropping into a doze, when Armin’s prod of, “So, Levi?” had the brunette sitting up with a grumpy frown. Despite his arrangements to meet with the royal, beyond checking in on his status with Hanji, Eren was too knotted up inside to talk about the prince without feeling anxious, which in turn made him irritable. 

“Mm.”

“Hanji spoke about, er, well I don’t know how to say this delicately, but a consummation. Based on the fact that the prince is still alive and you haven’t been subsequently jailed for murder, I assume that you were able to figure out how to avoid that, at least?” 

Eren cleared his throat and avoided eye contact. 

“Eren?” 

He slipped from the bed and paced to the window. 

“Eren!” Armin jumped after him, stunned. “You didn’t!”

“Not — exactly,” Eren pulled his hands through his hair and let out a breath hard enough to make his lips buzz. 

Armin leaned sideways around Eren, forcing him to meet his gaze, “And what, “exactly,” does that mean?” concern formed lines between his eyes. 

“It means…it means that I lost my mind with the need to be fucked and Levi helped me through it without taking advantage of my vulnerability, by repeatedly jacking me off and probably traumatizing himself in the process.” Eren finally looked up from where he had been playing with the hem of his shirt to see Armin wide-eyed, mouth dropped open in a wide “O.” He let out a slightly derisive snort. “Exactly.” 

“That’s…” Armin struggled.

“Embarrassing? Mortifying?”

“I was going to say ‘horrifying.’”

“That, too.”

“Why are you not more upset about this?” Armin arched a slender brow. 

“I am upset. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You don’t have to _accept_ it —“

“I haven’t. Not by a long shot. But if I’m stuck with this, at least it’s with Levi. At least he shares my feelings, and respects my ‘no.’”

“Eren,” Armin began to hedge.

“Armin, I can’t. I know, believe me, I know. But if I think about it too much I’ll go mad. I promise I’m not in denial. I’m just…coping.”

Armin whistled low, reaching out to squeeze his friends arm. “If you’re sure, I won’t push. But I’m worried about you, Eren. This is wrong.”

Eren nodded, “It is. But we’re going to make it right. Right?”

Armin shook his head, not in any type of denial, but in confounded amazement over…everything, “Of course, Eren.”

The next hour was spent in catching up: Eren describing the last few days’ events and the new people he’d met; showing Armin the names carved into the windowsill, and describing why his room was bare of most of its previous furniture (Armin frowned at that, and Eren rubbed his head sheepishly). At the mention of Connie, the blonde’s face grew especially cross, but Eren reminded Armin that it was Connie who had went against the rules to deliver his letter, putting his employment at risk, and the smaller man’s frown smoothed away (mostly) in reluctant acknowledgment. 

Armin relayed his own experiences of the last few days. After Eren was spirited away from the manor, Hanji had followed close behind, while Levi had been forced to oversee the remainder of the “party;” the next day all but kicking the few nobles that lingered out the door, in his rush, and much to their displeasure. He’d been delayed again into and through the evening, organizing the transportation of the Cotidianum boys, those who had not been “chosen,” to get back to their homes. By the time Levi was able to leave the manor it was early morning; he had bundled Armin onto the back of a horse, despite his own protests to Mikasa doing just that, and the blonde had been forced to hang onto the prince for dear life as he rode hell for leather towards the palace. By the time they arrived, all of the peerage had already begun streaming from the temple, Armin had been ushered to Levi’s suite, and the prince himself had made for the grand hall. Armin hadn’t been filled in on any details, and had been left to his own devices that entire first day and night, as hell broke loose with the binding and revelation of Levi’s true parentage (all which Armin remained clueless about, until Eren’s letter). He’d seen Levi very briefly in the morning (post-mostly-avoided-consummation, he now knew), the prince storming into his rooms and slamming and locking the door behind him, before slamming back out of them sometime around noon. Armin didn’t count his interaction with Connie between those times as any type of meaningful conversation. Then that evening, he’d received Eren’s letter and went straight for the library, where he ran into Hanji who gave him a rather clinical run-down of the binding and its ramifications, expanding on Eren’s hurried letter, and the two had spent all night to begin combing through the library — a task that, Armin admitted, would most likely take some time, as he had told his friend before. He’d returned to his room as the sun was rising and fallen asleep right away, only to be woken by Hanji who, again, gave an objective, to the point, summary of the most recent events, transpired while they’d been holed up pouring over dusty texts, before leading him to Eren who — it turned out — had been right down the hall this entire time. 

Eren shook his head. This was only his fourth day in Mitras, and yet in such a seemingly short period of time, everything had changed. 

“I forgot about my mother,” Eren admitted haltingly, after they had spent some time in comfortable silence, snuggled onto the window bench watching birds swim and flit about the pond in the garden. 

“Forgot?” Armin was confused, “Because of the spell?”

“No. Well, in a way, yes,” Eren held his hand out and tilted it side to side. “I was just so…overwhelmed —“

“Understandably so.”

“— that I didn’t even _think_ of her, these last few days. What kind of a son am I?”

“Eren?”

“Yes?”

“I say this with love, but you’re an idiot.”

“Wha —“

“Just — take a moment. Look at your life. Look at your choices.”

“What choices?”

“Exactly — you’ve had none. Desperate. Desperate. You are really desperate.”

Eren crinkled his nose. “Okay?”

“No! Not okay! And that’s my point. I don’t think your mother will begrudge you giving all your focus onto your current situation, given the frankly absurd outrageousness of it all.”

“But that shouldn’t matter, she’s my _mother_ —“

“Eren, no. I won’t let you feel bad for this. Your mother is fine — the weather is warm, it’s been a good year for crops, and the other villagers will not have just abandoned her, if she really found herself in need. Your prioritization of focus on the people and events so drastically effecting your life right now is not only acceptable, but also logically necessary.”

“But I —“

“No. Not another word.”

Eren crossed his arms with a huff, looking away from his friend. 

Some time passed before Armin asked lightly, “Are you brooding?”

“Yes,” Eren bit out.

“Because you disagree with me?”

Eren stayed silent.

“Because you agree with me?”

“Maybe,” Eren begrudged, still looking away. 

“Oh?” Armin turned to him, seemingly delighted at Eren’s impending surrender to his superior insight.

“I still feel guilty, though,” Eren needled, one last stand in his attempt to prove his point (whatever that had morphed into).

Armin rolled his eyes lightly, “Yes, ever the martyr, Eren.”

“Well, not to point out the obvious but…” the brunette trailed off jokingly, the thrust of his implication no less significant for it. Surely this proved his point?

Armin only lifted one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth following suit, and Eren knew that, rather than prove himself, he’d instead somehow just lost whatever misguided stance he was trying to maintain. “The obvious being..?” Armin prompted.

“That I…” Eren paused. Stopped. Not willing to so readily step into the trap Armin had just set.

“Are indeed a martyr?” Armin finished, Eren opening his mouth to protest, head tilted in confusion. 

“Well I mean —“

“Are suffering greatly because of your station — are, in a way, being persecuted for being Cotidianum?”

“Um?”

“Have even, according to your own account of last night, nearly died as a result, necessitating all of your available attention to ensure your well-being and survival during such extraordinary circumstances, which I have no doubt your mother would appreciate, she wanting you, most likely, _not_ to die?”

Eren’s mouth snapped shut as he narrowed his eyes in a glare, but there was no heat behind the gesture.

“That’s what I thought,” Armin smiled smugly.

Eren gave into his urge and pushed Armin off of the windowsill, the blonde’s squawk of outrage as he thumped to the ground cheering him considerably. 

Stupid Armin and his smart brain and big words.

Once the nuisance had regained his seat, Eren turned to him, “Will you show me the library?” 

The blonde’s eyes lit up in excitement and he sprung from the window-seat with a delighted “Yes!”

Approaching the main door to his rooms, Eren paused in apprehension — would it open? Reaching out slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the knob and gave a tentative twist of his wrist and — let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a brief, still moment. The knob gave smoothly, and the door swung open, and Eren had to swallow past the stupid lump that threatened to build in his throat that came with the relief of not being trapped and confined like an animal. 

Armin looked on knowingly, his blue eyes dark with both sympathy for Eren and ire for the situation, and Eren spared him a brief glance of acknowledgment before striding for the main doors of the royal suite. It was mid-afternoon, and two guards Eren had never seen before stood at attention in the hall. As Eren strode out, they gathered themselves, exchanging confused glances between each other, Eren, and the door clicking shut behind he and Armin. Maybe they hadn't gotten the memo, or maybe they simply hadn't believed that the queen’s “paramour” would willingly venture from his apartment, but Eren didn’t stay to find out, instead grabbing Armin’s wrist and pulling him determinedly towards the hidden servants’ stair. 

Armin’s sound of surprise prompted Eren to explain, “This is the servants’ stair,” which Armin only rolled his eyes at, that much being quite obvious. “How have you been getting around, if not this way?” Eren asked. 

“The normal way,” Armin shrugged. Eren frowned at the reminder that his presence in the palace was being kept so much of a secret. He understood why that was necessary — appreciated it, really, as the last thing he wanted was a bunch of nobles and servants gawking and whispering — but it still did things to a person’s psyche, to be treated so furtively, like there was something wrong with him. He shook the feeling away with a _tsk_ — he really did seem to like making things even more difficult for himself with all of these negative thoughts and emotions. Not that he could help it. 

Halfway up the stairs to the next floor, Eren stopped, glancing up and then back down the stairwell. “Um. Where is the library, exactly?” He couldn’t remember from Krista’s quick tour, his first day in the palace. 

Armin froze mid-step, foot poised in the air. “Um. You know, I’m not really sure,” he giggled almost nervously. “It was near the grand hall, but further back into the castle — deeper. It actually goes _into_ and under the mountain.” 

Eren pursed his lips, hands on his hips, as he tried to mentally orient himself. “Okaaay, then we need to go…” he lifted one hand and swirled side to side, picturing the layout of the massive keep around him. “That way!” he pointed decisively, wilting a little at Armin’s ‘you’re sure?’ “Yes, I’m sure!” the brunette sputtered, starting upwards once more. At least, he was pretty sure he was sure…

About an hour later they finally found the library, and Armin punched Eren in the arm with an annoyed huff and mimicked “Yes, I’m sure! Of course I know where I’m going, Armin! I’m an idiot, Armin!” 

“Hey!” Eren whined, rubbing the surprisingly sore spot. Evidently Armin had more power in his tiny frame than was initially obvious. “I got us here eventually, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Armin answered with a small shake of his head that communicated pure sass, “And to every other part of the castle first, too.” 

“Well, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey,” Eren blinked and tried weakly.

“You’re so full of shit, Eren.”

Eren just grinned and approached the library doors. Diverging from the opulence of the rest of the palace, they were a light, honey color with warm amber graining standing out in stark contrast. Areas of the doors were slightly darker and shiny where hundreds of years of hands touching had smoothed and stained them; their bronze handles were a gleaming gold color at their centers that faded to tarnished green at the edges. The doorway’s only true ornamentation was the carved words over its mantel, deeply recessed and blackened with age. 

_To read is to light the fire which nothing else can dim_.

Pushing open the doors, Eren lost his breath for a brief moment, taking in the cavernous space _filled_ with books. Cavernous was an apt description, for more than one reason: built into the mountain, as Armin had described, the space really was one massive cave, it’s walls roughly hewn, its ceiling too high to see, hidden in murk. Larger than even the temple had been, the library had three tiers of parapet balconies, set with cutout diamond shapes. The balconies wrapped around the walls, supported by lines of acadian columns. The shelves they housed were proportionate to the the space — that is, huge — and disappeared in long rows into the recesses of the library. All of these structures were carved out of the stone of the mountain itself so that the library was, ultimately, one giant, single piece; solid and immovable.

Looking at the space, and how it completely dwarfed the small handful of people milling about it — some near the main circulation desk placed at its center, others visible in and amidst the stacks themselves — the mantel carving took on new meaning for Eren. “To read is to light the fire which nothing else can dim.” While the knowledge gained from reading certainly was its own spark — of intelligence and creativity — the thing about fire was, it didn't discriminate. Eren couldn’t tell whether the man at the desk was a noble or a librarian, or whether the woman disappearing between two shelves was a courtier or a servant; all he knew was that here, in this space, they shared the same purpose. A book did not care whether you were of the nobility or peasantry — if a book could, it would only care that it was being opened and transacted with. Here in this space, then, all were equal. There were no Expolitum, there were no Cotidianum — there were only _readers_. 

Armin smiled knowingly and clapped Eren on the back. “Right?” he whispered conspiratorially, taking in his friend’s wide-eyed look of wonder. “I felt the same way.” 

It took a few tries before Eren was able to do anything but nod, slightly open mouthed, eyes still flicking across the countless shelves, soaking in the sight. And to think that he’d been so impressed with the shelves in his new room — ha! A pittance, in comparison (though, compared to his non-existant experience with books, let alone libraries, up until this point? Still a treasure).

With a wave, Armin led him to the ‘O’ shaped desk some distance into the space. Made of the same wood as the doors, its simpleness contrasted heavily with the gravitas of the rest of the expansive place. Stationed there, a tall, young woman with dark hair pulled back and gray eyes was working through a pile of papers, recording notes in a large, leather-bound tome. 

“You again?” she arched a brow at Armin, who only smiled politely back. “You seemed rather frantic, last time you scurried in here, but not so anymore.” She indicated Eren, “I assume this was the cause of your distress?”

Eren blinked a few times while Armin’s smile grew slightly brittle. “ _This_ is Eren,” he explained, “and no offense, but it isn’t really your business.”

The librarian shrugged, “This is my library; I am its keeper. I’ll find out eventually.” Eren frowned at her, not sure whether he should feel affronted in some way or not. Before he could decide, she introduced herself with an abrupt, “I’m Ymir,” before turning away and back to her note taking. It seemed that that was the end of that conversation. 

Eren looked at Armin, brow arched in silent question, but the blond only shook his head somewhat exasperatedly and led Eren past the desk and towards a main walkway between shelves. 

“According to Hanji, that’s her default,” Armin explained Ymir’s brusque manner away. The main walkway was lined with a thick, but durable looking, carpet, a rich red at its edges which grew much more faded at its well-trod center. Eventually, though, after passing dozens and dozens of shelves, losing sight of the main desk even, the carpet ran out, giving way to smooth flagstone. Gas lamps were firmly bolted into the stone shelves along the main aisle, and Eren caught glimpses of more lamps down each row at equidistant points. 

“Aren’t they afraid of a fire?” Eren wondered out-loud. 

“I asked Hanji the same thing,” Armin nodded. “They said that the lamps have a failsafe mechanism, so that if the lamps shift even the slightest bit out of the position they are bolted into, the flame is extinguished. Not sure exactly how it works, but its awfully clever.” Eren hummed his agreement. Eventually, though, even the lamps became less and less frequent, until many long minutes later, they ceased all together. 

Eren shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the darkness beyond, where he could barely make out the silhouettes of shelves continuing on into the unending shadow, casting a longing glance back down the aisle that he knew eventually led to the front doors and sunshine. 

Armin stepped down a side aisle, and Eren poked his head forward to see the blonde carefully lift something off of a shelf. A scraping sound, a hiss and flare, and then Armin was holding his own lamp, the light it cast revealing a few more stored there on the shelf. “These lamps,” Armin cautioned, “do not possess the same fail-safe, so we have to be very careful with them. They also have a more limited reservoir of oil, to prevent too great a spill, in case of an accident. So we’ll make this trip quick, and bring extra with us next time.”

“Okay. But where are we going?” Eren squinted. 

“To the church archives! Where Hanji and I were searching, last night,” Armin smiled, his grin made eerie by the severe slant of light. “They’re pretty deep under the mountain, se have to walk extra quick, before the oil runs out.”

Eren was about to ask what that was supposed to mean, “under”, when Armin stepped forward and it all became rather clear. As they had gone deeper into the library, it had begun to taper, so that its ceiling grew lower as balconies diverted into hallways branching into the mountain. It had been so gradual a process, that Eren hadn’t quite noticed it until Armin now lifted the lantern high, illuminating the great space they’d just emerged into, similar to the library’s entry. The stone here was embedded with some kind of mineral that sparkled, casting the faint stream of illumination from the lantern back in subtle bursts that caught and traveled so that, even though the space was still completely dark, the hints of glitter that winked at Eren gave an indication of the width and height. 

Armin began to stride forward, his pace quick. The shelves here were much larger than the main body of the library, certainly requiring some type of ladder system; and the floor slanted downwards at a rather steep angle, the shelves matching that gradient to remain perfectly upright. Their steps echoed here, where they hadn't before, reaching far and building quietly, before disappearing into the space above them — the ceiling was so far away that the space felt empty, and especially heavy, where it hung over Eren’s head. Eventually, though, like in the main body of the library, this large space also grew smaller, the ceiling catching on the lantern light, the shelves smaller and closer together; the floor evened out, and the empty space above became rock, as the air grew thick and almost warm. They were at the heart of the mountain, Eren was sure. 

By some unknown signal, Armin knew when to step off of the main aisle — for just how long had they been walking, anyway? — and he brought Eren down first one, and then a second, and then a third side aisle, until Eren was quite sure he would never be able to find his way back. It was a maze, down here in the black, with only the star-like flashes as company. 

Armin stopped at a desk, hidden in an alcove built into one of the shelves, surprisingly free of dust. Multiple piles of books and ledgers of paper took up the space, which Armin carefully settled the lamp amidst. 

“This is what we’ve pulled from one shelf, so far,” Armin pointed over Eren’s shoulder, where, indeed, a shelf stood with many obvious gaps where texts were missing. But it was also, indeed, just one shelf. One shelf, of eight. And of one bookcase, of which…there was this entire monster of a library. Armin grimaced at the realization that dawned on Eren’s face, as he came to understand just how truly daunting of a task this was. “The good news,” Armin attempted to reassure, “is that we’re fairly certain we can limit ourselves to only the sections on magic and the church, with limited forays into those on the royal family and modes of heredity. So we’ve narrowed things down rather significantly, from the whole library. It’s just…”

“Just that that still leaves a whole fucking lot of books,” Eren slumped against the edge of the table.

Armin nodded sheepishly at his succinct summarization,“Yeah.”

Eren went to reach for one of the books, running his finger along its ancient, crackled, leather-bound spine, when a sound so faint he almost thought he imagined it chimed, only to repeat a little bit louder, and then once more, still soft, but loud enough that he knew he hadn’t conjured it up. “What is that?” he looked around curiously, only to be met with the false night sky. 

Armin smiled, “There’s no natural daylight in the library, so they have a bell system to let people know the time. According to Hanji, up until then folks were forgetting to eat and sleep and passing out, they were so absorbed in their studies and work. Supposedly there are still skeletons, lost in the forgotten recesses of shelves.” Eren felt himself shrink, and Armin’s smile grew decidedly more smirk-like. “It’s kinda morbid, but also romantic, in a sideways sort of way, don’t you think?”

Eren considered whether he could get so lost in a book that he might forego dinner, and only came to the conclusion that people were crazy, and that he really liked food, thanks. 

Just then, the lamp gave a snap sound, making Eren jump. “Speaking of,” Armin lifted the lantern, “that is the 5 minute warning before we lose light. We should head back anyway, I think that was actually the dinner bell.” 

Armin struck a jaunty pace, weaving his way back through the shelves without pause — impressive after just one night. Eren hoped he’d remember his way soon, so that he could come down to do research on his own, should he so wish. They made it back to the “normal” part of the library before the light went out and which, from that direction, was only a large illuminated opening of a doorway carved into the face of all that sparkling stone. Armin blew the small flame out and re-shelved the lamp, before waving Eren forward to lead the way back. 

Eren walked in comfortable silence with his friend, looking around to once again take in the space around him. The library was less ornate than the palace, but for all its lack of trappings, it was far grander — both in scale, and impact. Eren felt tiny in the massive expanse, the smells of paper and leather, and the cold stone itself, making his skin prickle. 

They made it back into the main entry — the ingress hall, Armin belatedly informed Eren, it was called — where they shared a silent nod with Ymir, before exiting into the castle main. 

The doors closed softly behind Eren, and he felt like he’d stepped between worlds. 

“How strange,” he mumbled, rubbing one arm.

“It is,” Armin agreed, not having to ask what. “It seems so removed from all this, doesn't it?” Armin lifted a hand to indicate the hall with its plush rug and gilded mirrors, paintings and tapestries. 

“Completely,” Eren wrinkled his nose at one mirror and the image of himself that caught there. “Ugh. I look a mess.”

“Well, you did just come out of a hypothermic state, yes?”

Eren rolled his eyes, and they walked on. 

As Armin had said, it was dinner time — and Eren had a meeting with the prince to get to. 

x

The boys separated at the Green Foyer, Armin wishing him good luck, and Eren made his way up the stair there, forcing himself to exit onto the balcony without pausing at the door — he knew that if he hesitated, his nerves would have him running for his room. 

The balcony was both long and wide, a platform carved into the face of the mountain itself. At its edge, Levi struck a rather grim figure, facing away and gazing out over the expanse of the city, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, feet shoulder length apart. 

Eren slowly made his way over, pausing a few steps behind the noble, who's shoulders tensed, but who otherwise made no move to turn or acknowledge Eren’s presence. 

Eren waited a long moment, absently dragging his toe along the tiled floor, until the silence grew from awkward to annoying, and he cleared his throat pointedly. At that, Levi’s shoulders went from simply being tense, to furrowing up next to his ears, as if he was trying to hide. Eren sighed.

“Levi,” he cajoled, “come, now.”

The prince shook his head, “How can you stand to talk with me?”

Eren tsked, “Levi…”

The prince finally rounded on Eren, eyes glittering with anger — not at Eren, but instead turned inwards. Levi was furious with himself. “How can you endure to even stand near me?”

“Easy,” Eren said in a soft voice, “I simply stop walking.”

“I am serious, Eren!” Levi ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“And so am I!” Eren took a step forward. “You had no idea the binding would effect me a second night in a row, blaming you makes absolutely no sense.”

“But you were right — I left you, abandoned you. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own troubles, if I had checked on you as I knew I should, I would have been there for you!”

“Och, Levi,” Eren couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even though he’d made that very accusation towards Hanji, earlier. 

“Am I wrong?”

“Technically, no,” Eren had to admit, “but again — you had no idea. Feeling guilty accomplishes very little, except that it allows you to act so maudlin and dramatic,” he needled.

A small spark of irritation flashed in Levi’s eyes, and Eren internally smirked. He had to distract Levi from his guilt somehow, and anger was usually the easiest alternative. 

“Dramatic?” Levi annunciated the word slowly and with care, tone rather icey.

Eren hummed and nodded. “Exceedingly. You’d think that you were the one that nearly froze to death.”

Levi’s mouth opened and closed, no doubt torn between denying the implications of that statement, but also wanting to use it as proof for why he was so upset and guilt-ridden. 

Eren didn’t give him the opportunity. “I’m hungry,” he frowned, looking around, “Isn’t there supposed to be dinner?”

Levi mastered himself and gave half a shake of his head, before giving a small wave towards the seating area where trays sat, laden with various meats, cheeses and bread. Eren didn’t bother to wait before strolling over, plopping himself into one of the metal framed chairs, and digging into the charcuterie. 

He’d made his way through one of the platters singlehandedly before Levi eventually wandered over and hesitantly took a seat of his own. Eren nudged one of the trays his way, and the prince reluctantly began pulling at a bit of bread, though none of it ever made it past his lips. 

“I accept,” Eren smiled around a mouthful of grapes. 

Levi blinked. “What?”

“Your apology,” Eren shrugged. “So now we can move on.”

Levi shook his head, “What?”

“What ‘what’? What do you want to do, here, Levi? Either you continue to self-flagellate, which accomplishes, well, nothing,” he snagged a strawberry, “ _or_ we acknowledge that it happened, and move on.” Eren shrugged, “So, I accept your apology.”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “It’s not that fucking simple, Eren.”

“Oh? And why not.”

“I _hurt_ you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“My inaction did. My selfishness.”

“Okay, so assuming that you did, in fact, through such convoluted means, cause me harm — which I am not saying — then, as the offended party, isn’t it _my_ decision whether to lay blame or not?”

“You even said that it was my fault,” Levi’s eyes were stormy, his lips thin. “That you hated me.”

“I was half out of my mind, Levi. If you’d told me the sky was green I would have taken it for truth.”

“And that was my doing!” Levi gesticulated. 

“Once more — no it wasn’t. It was the binding. You had no way of knowing. But even so, you are sorry, and I accept your apology, and I would really, really, _really_ like to move past this, as, yes, it is not exactly the most pleasant experience to dwell on, and your wallowing is making that rather difficult,” Eren smacked his hand down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle, his agitation making his breath come a bit shorter. He pinched his lips between his teeth, smiling thinly through the action, before taking a deep breath and sitting back. Levi watched him carefully, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. “I’ve unjustly blamed you for too many things, Levi. I will not do the same, now. And I will not let you make me. So your misguided sense of honor, while admirable, can go right ahead and just fuck off. Understood?”

Levi was still for a long moment, eyes narrowed. When he finally nodded, it was curt and disjointed, his face clear of any type of telling emotion, but Eren took the apparent acquiescence, and nodded back before grumbling around a swallow of cheese about stubborn blue-bloods and their histrionics. 

As he finished eating, Eren considered why he felt so adamant that Levi not blame himself. While true that he had initially been furious, feeling ignored and discarded, once Hanji had explained everything and he realized it really wasn’t Levi’s fault, Eren had felt…pity. Which was outrageous, because why should Levi, Crown Prince turned King, need a measly peasant’s pity? If anyone deserved the emotion, it was Eren. 

But as he had absorbed the particulars that Hanji shared, pity was exactly what Eren had felt. And great shame. 

Levi had stood up for Eren, done his best to help him throughout the Culling and after. Had, time and time again, taken responsibility for his fuck-ups, apologizing and trying to make up for them. Even in singling out Eren from the beginning, he thought he’d been giving the Cotidianum a step up in life; opportunity and possibility. It was too great an oversimplification to simply say that Levi should have known better, should never have taken part in the Culling. Levi was born into his station, raised in it, had never known another way of thinking until Eren barreled into his life. And rather than cut Eren down where he stood, Levi had…listened. When Eren had denounced the Culling and accused Levi, the prince had been effected and, as far as he was able, done his best to still do right by Eren and the other Cotidianum. But the fact was, Levi, even though a prince, was just one man in the middle of an entire nation that had followed the same rules and beliefs for centuries. There was not much the noble had realistically been capable of — but even still, he had tried. 

Eren, on the other hand, had made an easy target of Levi; had fallen on old prejudices and hates, and put all blame on Levi who, in his own way, was just as much of a victim of the system. But at least Levi acknowledged his own part in it, to this point, and was now trying to change. Had changed. Eren? Not so much. 

Returning to the same conversation he had earlier in this thoughts, Eren once more recalled what Levi had said to him: “ _…I was born into this fucked up world just like you. And I’ve done my best to be a good person in it…I’ve learned and changed. I try to keep doing so — you’ve helped me in many ways….I’m doing my best here, Eren. I’m trying to do my best by you, and this mess I helped get you in. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m just asking you to acknowledge that I only wish for the best for you, and if nothing else, to trust that I have your best interests at heart._ ” 

Eren felt very young, and very selfish, indeed. 

And maybe he was allowed to be selfish, considering all that was happening to him (as Armin had argued), but that didn’t mean it was right. At least not when it came to Levi. 

Eren stood with a sigh, swinging his arms wide and then clapping them in front of him. That was enough heavy introspection for one evening. “Soo,” he forced a grin, his cheeks already flaming a bright red that would belie the forced nonchalance of his next words: “My penis. You touched it. Pretty weird, right?”

Levi still hadn't eaten anything, but at those words he began to choke.  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~bit of comedic relief at the end, there lmao oh Eren. He's doing his best xD  
> ~ Armin’s speech about Eren being desperate shamelessly stolen from the classic youtube video “Sassy Gay Friend” on Romeo and Juliet hahahaha  
> ~ Quote above library doors adapted from a Victor Hugo quote: “To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.”  
> ~ Speaking of…the library is basically if you merged a dwarf mine with Rivendell a la Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings… if anyone would like, I can go internet hunting for images to help bring that space more clearly to picture  
> ~ don’t hate on Mikasa JUST yet… not everything is what it seems… *sunglasses emoji*  
> ~ as I responded to a comment below..”Thank you (everyone) for the suggestions for a gang name! I've gotten a few, and they're all not just creative, but I can really tell you all honestly took a little bit of time to mull over and contemplate what would work well, and that’s so sweet :) so thank you!”
> 
> OK.  
> Thank you again so, so much for taking the time to read, and I really hope you all enjoyed!!! Please let me know what you thought in the comments; kudos and subscribe! :D
> 
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are the chicken soup to this fic's soul  
> thank you
> 
> x


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